Rainbow Fences
by HigherMagic
Summary: Dean identifies as Alpha. With regular therapy sessions and hormone treatments he's well on his way to being comfortable in his skin now. Castiel, his Alpha mate, has never allowed himself to think there was any alternative than the nuclear family he'd been raised on. Together they meet somewhere in the middle of traditional and perfect.


**Summary:** Dean identifies as Alpha. With regular therapy sessions and hormone treatments he's well on his way to being comfortable in his skin now. Castiel, his Alpha mate, has never allowed himself to think there was any alternative than the nuclear family he'd been raised on. Together they meet somewhere in the middle of traditional and perfect.

 **Notes:**

Written for the DeanCasBigBang 2015! Shout-out to the wonderful punkascas who chose my fic. Visit the story on AO3 to see the art post!

This fic has Dean as an Omega who identifies as Alpha, and notes a past Dean/Michael relationship. The Dean/Michael is not explicit and happened solely in the past.

This fic features one bottom!Dean scene and the rest with subby/bottom!Castiel.

Enjoy!

* * *

"Some asshole touched my neck yesterday."

Charlie's eyes are sympathetic, her full mouth pressed into a thin line as she looks Dean up and down. Her entire body is tuned into Dean, legs crossed up high, elbows resting on her thighs, clipboard loosely resting on her knees. There's a stray mass of red hair falling in front of her face that she has yet to push out of the way, her thick black glasses resting just a little low on her nose.

"I'm sorry," she says, emphatically.

Dean rolls his eyes, huffs a breath, and rubs his fingers across the bridge of his nose. "My whole body went limp, just like that," he says, snapping his fingers to signify how quickly the reaction had come over his body. Even remembering it he feels a cold shiver on the nape of his neck. "Just – just like that. Why? Fuck."

He leans forward, puts his head in his hands. Charlie sighs – softly, not wanting to interrupt Dean's moment. "Some biology just can't be fought," she says, too gently – they've gone over this, over and over and over this again and again. Dean just can't get around to accepting it.

"I keep thinking it'll get better," Dean says, lifting his head, dragging his hands down his face hard enough that his skin turns momentarily white before fading back into his normal color. He's paler than Charlie remembers him being – she remembers him telling her he was planning to move in with his partner. She jots a quick note to ask about 'Cas'. "That, you know, with the hormones and the contacts and the surgery, it'll get better, and I won't feel so fucking -."

Weak, useless, pathetic.

"Dean," Charlie says, scolding. "Would you refer to an Omega that way?"

Dean's eyes flick to her, dark under his furrowed brow, before he sighs and looks away. "No," he admits. "No, I wouldn't. Of course not."

"Then why would you refer to yourself that way?" she asks, gentler this time. She's always known just what to say – Dean closes his eyes and breathes out, hard. "Sometimes your body betrays you, Dean, but you shouldn't let that affect who you are or who you want to be. You know, people who are lactose intolerant, they work around that – people who have trouble walking or standing for a long time, they can still have wonderful and happy lives. Just because you had one bad day doesn't mean the rest of them have to be."

Dean sighs again, rubbing his thumb against the corner of his mouth. He does that when he's trying to get his shit together.

Charlie looks down at her notepad. It's covered in haphazard, half-jotted notes and thoughts she's had for Dean during their sessions. Dean has been coming to her for almost two years, now, and she has yet to touch everything she's wanted to talk about with the man.

"Did you tell Cas about that incident?" she asks.

Dean's eyes flash, golden, glaring. "No," he says. "He gets…weird, when stuff like this happens."

"I don't think these kinds of things are things you should keep to yourself," Charlie says, gently. "He can help you work through days like that just as well as I can."

Dean shakes his head. "That's the kind of stuff Omegas deal with, you know? And he's not – he's not an Omega. So he just gets weird about it. Protective. I don't need his Goddamn protection."

Charlie bites the corner of her lower lip, looking down at her notes. "So Cas is both biologically and identifies as an Alpha?" Dean nods. "How has he been reacting to different stages in your transition?"

Dean shrugs one shoulder. "He hasn't really reacted at all," he says. "I mean – we've had other stuff to do, you know?" Charlie hums noncommittally. "Like, you know, moving. He says his house smells different but not that I do, and he just -." He shrugs again. "I guess he'll just love me no matter what weird half-gender breed I am."

"Hey!" Charlie reaches forward, smacking Dean's knee with her TARDIS pen. "Don't give me that bullshit – you say you're an Alpha, so you're an Alpha. Strangers and jerkwads in bars don't get to tell you what you are, Dean, any more than they could tell you you don't know shit about cars, or that you can't cook, or whatever else."

At that, Dean at least manages a smile. His eyes clear, fading back to their normal green color with just a thin ring of burnt-orange-gold in the middle. Charlie's Beta scent is soothing and he takes another deep breath, blowing it out through his nose.

"I do think," Charlie says, holding up a finger in Dean's direction, "that you need to be more open with your partner about stuff and things goin' on in your head, okay? Life is confusing and headache-y enough without adding bottled up bullshit to the mix."

Dean raises an eyebrow. "'Headache-y'?" he mimics.

Charlie rolls her eyes and, with her middle finger, pushes her glasses up her nose. "Whatever. You know I'm right."

* * *

Even with all the bullshit clouding his head, Dean has to admit that it feels really, really fucking nice to pull his car into the driveway and see Castiel's car already parked there, the house open-windowed and looking as welcoming as any picture-perfect suburban fantasy could.

Sure, Dean knows he himself is no white-picket-fence fantasy, but Castiel hasn't figured that out yet, so Dean's safe.

He heaves a sigh, climbing out of the car and wincing at his girl's protesting groan when he swings the door shut. She's due for a little TLC anyway, and the weekend is spread wide open with no plans on his end, so perhaps he'll spend a good few hours in the garage giving both his and Castiel's car a tune-up.

The door is open and the scent of paint is fresh in the house, combined with the smell of roasting meat and garlic. Dean smiles, letting the door swing closed behind him, and follows his ears upstairs to where he can hear Castiel's old record player blaring out AC/DC – Castiel had never heard of them until he met Dean and Dean likes to congratulate himself a little every time he hears Castiel singing along to one of their songs.

He searches through the first couple of rooms, eyeing the new paint on the walls and the sheets covering what little furniture they'd already moved in, before he finds Castiel in their guest bedroom, humming along to Highway to Hell and moving his arm in long, vertical strokes, covering the beige wall with a dark purple.

Dean smiles, sneaking up behind him, and wraps his arms around Castiel's waist, kissing his neck in greeting. Castiel only tenses for a moment before he realizes it's Dean, and he sets down the paint roller into the tray, turning within Dean's arms with a smile on his face.

"Hello," he says quietly, tilting his mouth up into one of Dean's kisses, then another. He's relaxed and happy and God, it hurts how much Dean loves him sometimes. Even with paint on his cheek and his hair all messy and his body warm with sweat, Dean loves him.

Castiel's pretty blue eyes close as he kisses Dean again, melts against his body with an ease Dean envies sometimes. Still, he clutches his mate back as tightly as he can, lets his mouth open to Castiel's tongue, lets them press closer and hotter until Castiel lets out a soft little growl against his mouth.

"Dean!" he says, scolding and pulling back. "You're going to distract me."

"You're going to ask me how my therapy session was," Dean replies, hauling Castiel back by his wrist. To his credit, Castiel merely grins at him. "I don't wanna talk about it."

"We don't have to talk about it," Castiel says with a small shake of his head. Dean grins, ducking his head and laying his teeth against Castiel's pulse. "We don't – don't have to talk at all, if you don't want to."

Dean hums. Well, that offer has always been enticing, but he can smell the food and the walls are only half-done, and Dean knows that although Castiel is offering and would be perfectly happy being taken up on his offer, they do have chores before they can really settle for the night.

"How about I take over," he murmurs, letting his voice drop to a growl just because he likes how Castiel shivers at it, "and you go check on dinner?"

Castiel smiles, tilting his head so that Dean can suck a kiss to his neck, before he squeezes Dean's shoulders and pulls away. "Alright. I'll call you when it's done."

* * *

Dean's no slouch in the kitchen himself, but Castiel has always been able to make one specific thing with the same grace and ability with which God shaped the world. He'd learned it from his mother, and it was the first thing he had ever made Dean when they had just started dating.

"Italian meat log," Dean sighs appreciatively, eyeing the greasy layer of fat and cheese that covered the main course, the roasted garlic and potatoes and carrots that lined the sides. "I'm not gonna lie, Cas, I don't care if I have three heart attacks and have to swear off meat forever, I want this to be my last meal."

"Noted," Castiel says, voice thick with amused sarcasm, and plants a kiss to the top of Dean's head before taking his place at their tiny little kitchen table. "I'd rather you lived forever, though, Dean. I don't want my cooking to be the death of you."

Dean winks at him, digging into the first pre-sliced portion. It's slick with juice and tastes so fucking good Dean might have dreams of running away with it and having an affair in Vegas. Castiel smiles while he eats, in love with how much Dean enjoys it, and takes a sip of his beer.

"Samandriel called," he says, half-way through the meal. Dean gives a grunt in acknowledgement. "He wanted to know if you were coming to the coffee meet tomorrow. I told him I'd remind you; no obligation."

"Oh, shit, was that tomorrow?" Dean asks, groaning. "I was gonna spend the weekend giving the cars a once-over."

Castiel eyes him. His eyes see everything, Dean is sure of it. "You don't have to go," he says quietly, carefully. "I told Alfie that you might and you might not. I know he misses you, though. I think they like having you there."

Dean doesn't answer. Every month there is a group meet-up of the sexual minorities in the area. Dean had only been going for a couple of months when Samandriel joined the group. He's a gay Omega – one only attracted to other Omegas, a sweet little thing – and Dean would be lying if said that he felt unwelcomed and uncomfortable in the group.

He exhales heavily. "I'll go," he says, and doesn't miss Castiel's small, warm smile of approval. "You know, you can come too, right? It's not just for people like…like me, and Alfie. Partners and allies are perfectly welcome."

Castiel nods, considering for a moment. "Perhaps I will," he says. Dean blinks at him, surprised. "You're very closed-off about this kind of thing, usually, but I really would like to learn and be the best mate that I can to you."

"You don't have to." Dean sets his fork down so that he can reach for Castiel's hand. Their fingers touch against the condensed beer bottle, little pieces of the label peeled off underneath Castiel's nails. "I'm sorry I'm not more – more open, about shit like this. I just -."

"I understand." When Castiel's eyes rise to his, they're open and sincere. "I really do. It's your journey and your burden and I will love you through it all, but I don't want you to feel like you can't share anything with me. You're not obligated to, of course, but I want you to know that you can."

Dean smiles. "You just said you love me," he says quietly.

Castiel rolls his eyes. "You know I love you."

"I know." Dean pulls his hand away and lets his chin rest in his palm, grinning at his mate. "Maybe I just like hearing you say it."

It's a challenge. They both know it is. Dean can count on one hand how many meals they've actually ever made it through during their relationship, and he wouldn't have it any other way. Castiel's eyes darken and he pushes himself to his feet, food forgotten as he circles the table and pulls Dean up for a kiss with a hand in the hair at the back of his head.

"I love you," he whispers, voice already getting rough. The ring of red around his irises is getting brighter, more blood rushing to them. Soon they'll expand and turn his whole iris red. "I love you," he says again, kissing Dean again, and pulls him up, forcing Dean to stand as well and follow him until the table is a safe distance away.

"I love you," he growls, biting on Dean's lower lip, fangs nicking until Dean thinks he might be able to taste the tang of blood. He growls, his own eyes heating, pressing close to Castiel as he feels his body starting to respond, cock hardening against his mate's hip, jeans getting damp and hot with slick.

Castiel can smell it, too. His nostrils flare, the last of the blue overtaken from his eyes when he smells Dean. Dean has never gotten the courage to ask what he smells like, now – when they'd first met, Castiel had told him Dean smelled like sugar, olive oil and balsamic vinegar mixed together, old leather, cinnamon.

Now? Dean has no idea. He still hopes he smells as good as Cas does. Castiel is heat and honey, warm bread and mint and salt on a margarita glass. Even to Dean's senses, which have sharpened and grown edges with the hormones, he smells amazing and virile and full of life.

Castiel hums, his hands settling on the small of Dean's back. His fingers tease at the waist of Dean's jeans but go no further. "You or me?" he asks, eyes heavy-lidded, red, wanting. Dean kisses him again, thinking. He used to hate the feeling of his slick, used to feel like his body was betraying him with every little hint of his arousal. Now, though, it's a little better. Dean can't stomach the thought of going into Heat, but his slick means that Castiel can take him, too, and the Omega-not-Omega scent of it all adds a layer of intensity and ferocity that Dean thrives on.

And Dean loves the feeling of Castiel inside of him, and he's sure Castiel loves it for the same reasons. It used to matter, for him – how could he be the Alpha he was meant to be and still love being knotted, still writhe on an Alpha's knot and beg for it like Omegas did?

How could Cas?

"Me," he says, decided. "I want you to knot me."

Castiel blinks at him, before he shows his teeth in a grin. His fingers dip under Dean's waistband, teasing at the damp spot on his underwear.

Dean grins back, and pointedly shoves his mate as hard as he can. Castiel goes stumbling, catching himself on the half-wall separating the eating area from the kitchen, and growls at him.

Dean throws his arms out to either side of him, knees bent in an attack stance. "You didn't think it was gonna be that easy, did ya, sweetheart?"

Castiel snarls at him, his eye all red now, and bares his teeth once more. The two Alphas stay like that, locked in a standstill, until Castiel takes a step forward.

Dean bolts, laughing at Castiel's growl, and makes a beeline for the front door. Castiel catches him by the back of his shirt and hauls him back before he can undo the lock, so Dean turns and heads for the stairs.

He's not as fast as Castiel, he knows that, but he's bigger and he has more weight behind him. If he can get a good hold on Cas and make it that much harder for -.

Dean falls to the ground with a heavy grunt. Castiel growls, crawling over him, straddling Dean's kicking legs and grabbing his wrists, pinning them behind his back and setting his teeth at Dean's shoulder.

"You – you fucker," Dean wheezes, turning so that he can see Castiel out of the corner of his eye. His ankles still sting from the grip of Castiel's nails, the pull that had sent him to the ground. "You're gettin' too good at this."

Castiel raises an eyebrow, grinning and giving a single shake of his head. "You just wanted me to catch you," he says, kissing over the little sore spot where his bite had landed, just shy of Dean's shoulder blade on his spine. He rubs his forehead over Dean's shoulders, making sure to keep away from Dean's sensitive neck, and especially his nape.

Dean huffs, fingers flexing. "Let me turn around?" he asks. Castiel gives him a look. "No funny business, Cas, I swear – I just wanna see you."

Castiel hums, digging his knees into the carpet and lifting up just enough that Dean can turn around, his wrists freed and his hands able to dig into Castiel's hair, pulling him down for a kiss. Castiel melts into him, easy as anything, groaning against Dean's mouth when Dean grinds up, letting their erections drag and rub together through their clothes.

"Dean," he breathes, slamming his palm down on the carpet by Dean's head. "Please?"

"You wanna do this here?" Dean asks. Cas is usually a stickler for fucking in an actual bed. He likes them both to be naked and comfortable and doesn't move much after he's come (much to Dean's amusement).

Castiel bites his lower lip, eyes flashing up to the end of the hall, where their bedroom is. There's just a mattress on the floor for now, but it's something. Then, he looks down at his mate, pinned underneath him, cheeks red and eyes a wonderful, dark orange color, and he shakes his head.

Dean smirks, clambering to his feet along with Castiel, and pulls him into a kiss again. Castiel walks them back towards their bedroom, pressed as tight to Dean as he can the whole way.

Their bedroom is the coldest room in the house, the ceiling fan whirring away; all the windows open to allow the night air inside. Dean loves it cold, prefers to seek warmth in his mate and the blankets than by utilizing the central heating. Castiel shivers, easing into Dean's arms as they walk and fall into the bed, Dean on his back and letting Castiel slide between his legs. They both let out loud sighs at the friction, and Castiel closes his eyes when he feels Dean's nails drag from the base of his spine and outward.

Dean lets his hands catch Castiel's shirt, pulling it up and over his head. His hair is totally fucked, sticking up in all directions and only made worse by Dean's hands. Neither of them care. Castiel bites Dean's lower lip again, spreading his thighs out to force Dean to spread wider, hands falling to Dean's button and zip of his jeans. Dean sucks in a breath, closing his eyes as Castiel rips his clothes away from his body, his dick slapping against his stomach, head already wet. Fuck, all of him is wet, and he shudders when Castiel moves just enough to free one of Dean's legs, not giving a fuck that one of Dean's ankles is still wrapped up in his jeans and underwear. He pulls his own jeans off, and then falls over his mate's body, and the slide of wet, hot, smooth skin together drags a low curse from Dean's bitten-red mouth.

Dean wriggles out of his shirt, sitting up just enough that he can pull it over his head and throw it towards the door. He kicks his legs free, settles only when Castiel's palms flatten over his chest, run slowly up.

Castiel looks at him like he hung the moon. Dean soaks up adoration in his kiss, revels in the raw desire in his red eyes.

"Dean," he whispers. He moves back just enough that the head of his cock is dragging against the base of Dean's, teasing his balls. He's wet just behind them, his body open and slick and eager for an Alpha's cock. Castiel's hand settles on his cheek, thumbing at the corner of his mouth. Then, he sighs, and smiles. "I love you."

Dean clears his throat, swallows, runs his hands up Castiel's biceps, his hair, restless energy forcing them to wander. "Love you, too," he says, before pulling Castiel back down for another kiss. "Are you gonna -?"

"Yeah," Castiel says, his hand leaving Dean's face and instead going to his cock, letting it drag through the slick behind Dean's balls, teasing at his ass. "Yeah, if you – if you're still sure that -."

God, and Castiel can still wonder how Dean loves him. Dean grins, nails digging into Castiel's thighs, and hooks his heels behind Castiel's back. "Fuck me, Alpha," he whispers, and he can feel the tremor run down Castiel's spine as he moans, sucks in a breath, and pushes the head of his cock inside Dean's hole.

Dean's eyelids flutter, his breath leaves him in a huge gust as he feels his body parting for Castiel. It's always so intense, smelling an Omega,wanting one, and being penetrated at the same time. It's easier when Castiel is the one to take it, in a way, because at least he's satisfying the same urges he's creating. This way is amazing too, though, with Castiel looming over him, mounting him. Castiel is so gorgeous when he's fucking, bunched muscle and trembling limbs and red eyes and fucked-up hair. He lets his mouth go slack, kissing every part of Dean he can reach with his greedy, wandering mouth and hands.

Dean moans, head falling back, throat bared in an instinct he can't deny when Castiel bottoms out inside of him. Dean's legs loosen, spreading out across Castiel's thighs; his hands run up Castiel's back, nails raking just to feel his mate shiver and growl against his lips.

"You're so beautiful," Castiel breathes, and his eyes are closed but Dean feels the words and blushes. Castiel sounds nothing short of worshipful. His hands clasp Dean's face, forehead resting against Dean's, sweat making their skin slide as he works his hips in easy, tiny rocks against Dean's body, testing the give, the slickness, the tightness. "You are so good to me."

"Like-likewise," Dean whispers, his exhale shaky when Castiel pulls his hands back and braces them, nails in the pillows, knuckles white, and rises up onto his knees. It's a brutal pace: if there was a headboard it would be knocking down the wall behind their heads. As it is now, Dean can only hold on as tightly as he dares and ride the feeling of Castiel fucking him. He throws his head back and howls, fingers of one hand toying at his balls, at the base of his cock where the skin is stretched tight and pink. "Mm, Cas, please -."

"Dean," Castiel hisses, head lowering, shoulders bunched up like a jaguar about to give chase. He snarls, the sound low and rolling, and kisses wetly at the soft skin below Dean's ear. His arms collapse until his elbows hit the bed and one hand is petting Dean's hair back roughly, holding tight, the other turning Dean's head so that their lips can meet once again. "Dean, can you – can you wait out my knot? I want you inside me tonight. At some point."

"Oh, fuck." Dean has to wrap his hand tight around the base of his cock to stop himself shooting right there. It's a tight fit, Castiel's belly pushing against his cock in all the right ways, but he manages. "Fuck, yeah sweetheart, whatever you want."

Whatever you want.

Castiel sighs, rearing up, head bowed. When his eyes open and he lifts his head, his gaze is red and Dean feels like he's being devoured from the inside out. "Fuck, – I want -."

"C'mon, Cas, give it to me." Dean's eyes are burning, fiercely orange, his teeth catch on Castiel's lower lip when Castiel gasps and thrusts in again. "Want you to fuck me, wanna get tied on your knot." He bites his own lip, eyelids fluttering as Castiel growls and snarls and thrusts in again, speeding up, rough and ready. "You gonna come, sweetheart? Gonna give me that big Alpha knot?"

"Dean, damn it."

Dean growls loudly when he feels Castiel's knot start to grow, swelling up and locking Castiel inside of him as his mate shudders and starts to come. Castiel's arms give out, his heavy body lying on Dean, kissing at his collar bones, his jaw – careful to avoid his neck while they're knotted.

Dean huffs a laugh, rubbing his palms up and down Castiel's back, raking through his hair. He shifts just a little, getting more comfortable, and Castiel pulls his legs together to lay out in a more streamlined shape.

The sharp tug of arousal settles in Dean's stomach as something less urgent, content to wait until Castiel's knot goes down and he can flip them over and give Castiel a good fucking of his own. Bless whatever force in the world had brought him an Alpha as perfectly content to take a dick in his ass as he was willing to give one.

He sighs, closing his eyes, and runs his hands through Castiel's hair until Castiel recovers with a groan, lifting his head and kissing Dean deeply. "You feel so good around me," he whispers, his hands settling wide on Dean's ribs and petting down his sides. "I can't wait until I can feel you in me, too."

Dean shivers, his exhale shaky. "Careful, Cas, you're gonna end this before it starts," he replies. One of his hands goes to the base of his cock again, squeezing gently to stop that little crest of desire from getting too strong. He clenches down around Castiel's knot, earning a small hiss from his mate, and Castiel has to rear back and settle on his heels to give Dean as little friction as possible.

"I can't wait," he says, his hands cupping Dean's ass, squeezing briefly, circling the backs of his thighs, running up the inside.

Dean hums, closing his eyes and letting himself enjoy the slow, gentle touches. He's more of a post-coital cuddler than Castiel is, his mate gets too hot and drunk on his own pheromones to do much more than lay there and let Dean cuddle to his heart's content.

Castiel circles his hips, jaw clenching as he feels his knot starting to deflate. His knot has never stayed up for long, a blessing for them both, and Dean sighs heavily as he feels Castiel's knot go down enough for him to pull out. With it comes his come and Dean's slick, thick and wet and spilling onto the sheets.

Dean swallows heavily, sitting up and grimacing at the mess. "Fuck," he whispers, running his fingers through the slick on his thighs. It's shiny and clear, sweet-smelling.

"Dean." Castiel's hands catch him, avert his eyes so that Dean is looking at his mate's face. "Use it," he says, coaxing Dean forward until Castiel is straddling his thighs, and pulls Dean's wrist around until Dean's wet fingers are sliding between his cheeks. "Get me wet, Dean."

Dean's eyes fly open and with a snarl he throws Castiel onto his back on the bed, pinning him down with one hand around his neck. Castiel's nostrils flare, his fangs bared as Dean looms over him, but he stays down. Dean works his other hand between his mate's legs, slick fingers dragging against Castiel's tight, dry hole.

He licks his lips, puts more weight on the hand against Castiel's neck. "You gonna be good and stay down for me, sweetheart?" he asks. His desire has slammed back into his body with enough force to knock him breathless. He wants, want to pin his mate down and assert his dominance over Castiel, wants to bite his neck and fuck him and knot him and fill him -.

"Yes." Castiel's voice is hoarse, soft because of the pressure on his neck. He reaches out, spreading his legs, body arching up. "Yes, I want it. Please, Dean."

Dean growls, leaning down and kissing his mate hard enough that their teeth click together and their lips are bruised and red by the time they pull away. Dean snarls again, kissing Castiel again, fierce and hard, and shoves Castiel's thighs farther apart so that he can slide between them. His cock hurts from being denied and his ass is sore and his teeth itch to bury themselves in his mate's offered neck.

"Please," Castiel whispers. His breath hitches when Dean slides a second finger inside of him, scissoring quickly. They're both burning with urgency and Dean wants him.

"Get on your stomach," he hisses, drawing back. Castiel doesn't even hesitate in rolling over onto his stomach and letting Dean flatten himself over his back. Dean lets another scoop of slick and come drop onto his fingers, working it into Castiel's hole before he fists his cock and starts to force the head of his cock inside of Castiel's body.

Castiel is always so fucking tight; it amazes Dean how he can fit inside his mate's body most days. Castiel lets out a long, rolling growl at the penetration, shoulders bunching up and getting tight, as he fights the instinct to surge up and fight off the other Alpha pinning him down. "God, Cas, you feel so good around me." Dean leans down, kisses at the nape of Castiel's neck, and sucks a dark mark onto his shoulder. Castiel reaches back and grabs both of Dean's hands and their fingers lace together as Dean thrusts all the way inside, back out, in again until he can't go any further and he works his hips in little circles to tease a knot that will never grow.

Castiel's fingers tighten around his, knuckles white. "Dean, fuck me," he growls, his red eyes flashing as he turns his head, baring his teeth at Dean as Dean snarls right back at him.

"You got it, sweetheart," Dean says, grinning wide before he opens his mouth and sinks his teeth into the side of Castiel's neck. It's a shallow bite, wide and gentle but Castiel still goes wild underneath him. He strains and snarls but Dean has his hands pinned down and he rides the waves of Castiel's body, sinks his teeth in deeper. He groans, his cock feels like it's suffocating with every clench and shudder of Castiel's insides and it feels so good Dean knows he's not gonna last long.

He pulls his teeth back, licks over the wound. "Alright, baby, alright," he says, voice low, growling. "You want me to fuck you, hmm? Wanna feel my come leaking out of this slutty hole of yours?"

Castiel's shoulders tighten and pull together, his arms stretch out and he howls. "Dean, please!"

"You gotta behave, sweetheart," Dean whispers, rubbing his nose into the sweaty mess of hair on the back of Castiel's head. "Good sluts get what they want. You know that, don't you?"

Castiel whines. His eyes are closed and his head is buried between the pillows on the bed, but he pushes his ass up and spreads his legs as wide as he can, mimicking the position of being mounted like an Omega. It makes Dean moan, nosing at his mate's nape again, and he shoves onto the balls of his feet so that he can fuck into Castiel more fully, his whole weight behind it as he drives into Castiel with enough force to make him howl again.

"Mm, fuck, yeah – gonna come, Cas."

Castiel whines, rubbing his face against the mattress. His back dips, spine slick and ass up.

Dean lets go of his hands and falls back onto his heels, pulling out swiftly and taking his cock in his hand. Castiel groans, his thighs twitching at every hot splash of Dean's come onto his ass, his thighs, dripping down over his balls. Dean groans, free hand falling to Castiel's ass with a harsh slap, squeezing tightly enough that the skin turns pink, pulling him apart to expose more of his hole to Dean's greedy gaze.

"There we go," Dean hisses, rising up onto his knees again and pushing the head of his cock through the mess, shoving it back inside of Castiel's ass along with the last few twitches of his cock, spilling the rest of his come into his mate's hole. "Good boy. That's my boy."

Castiel lets out a hot, loud breath, pushing up onto his hands and knees and stretching out until his back cracks with a loud pop. Dean shoves himself to his feet and heads for their bathroom, and after a few seconds of running water he returns with a moist hand towel, kneels down behind his mate and begins to wipe them both clean.

Castiel sighs, running his hands through his sweaty hair, pulling the little baby hairs away from the back of his neck while Dean wipes them both clean. Then Dean throws the towel away and settles across his mate's back with a heavy sigh, finding one of Castiel's hands again and lacing their fingers tight.

"You okay?" Castiel asks, his voice rough from moaning, fucked-out.

Dean nods. "Sorry if I got too rough," he replies, sighing heavily. "Kind of a…heavy day."

Castiel hums, blinking once, slowly. "Would you like to talk about it?"

Dean doesn't answer immediately. He moves until he's cuddling against Castiel's back, spooning up behind him, one hand tangled with Castiel's under their bodies and the other pulling the messy sheets up to cover them from the pervading cold. He takes a deep breath, remembering Charlie's advice to be more open about shit that's bothering him with Castiel. Castiel has always been so patient with him, never pushes, always open to listening. It's probably time that Dean talks.

"Someone touched my neck today," he says, closing his eyes when Castiel tenses up and lets out a little growl. "I mean, I handled it, but it shook me down, I guess." He shifts his weight, clears his throat. "Charlie told me it wasn't my fault, and I mean I know that – I guess I'm just getting tired of waiting."

Castiel squeezes his hand gently, rubs his thumb along Dean's knuckles. "I'm sorry," he says. "If I had been there -."

Dean sighs, shoving himself upright, and rips his hand from his mate's. "You don't have to -." He cuts himself off with a muffled curse and rubs a hand over his mouth. "That's not the point, Cas. I don't need you to protect me!" He can hear Castiel roll over and push himself upright, too, his silhouette a dark shape in the corner of Dean's eye. "I shouldn't need protection, like that. Goddamnit, I'm an Alpha too! I can handle myself!"

"I know you can." Castiel's hand settles warmly on his shoulder. Dean wants to shrug him off, but he can't find the energy to. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that." He squeezes Dean's shoulder, and then lets the touch drop with a heavy sigh. "It – it bothers me that there are assholes like that in the world, and because of your designation and your identity you seem to run into so much more of them than everyone else. I just want to…shield you from that. Not from assholes in the street or wherever, but from the world's bigotry."

"Yeah." Dean huffs, shaking his head, and turns to smile at his mate. "I can handle it," he says, smoothing a hand along Castiel's scruffy cheek. Castiel turns his head, kisses lightly at the inside of Dean's wrist.

"I love you," he whispers. The red of his eyes has faded back to the normal ring now, and the blue shines through and flashes in the light coming in from the outside of the room and the moonlight streaming in. "I love you so much, Dean."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm the best you'll ever have," Dean replies with a wink, and though Castiel's smiles and breathes out a small laugh, there's more truth there than either of them will really voice. Still, it doesn't matter. "You ready to bed down for the night?"

Castiel nods, letting Dean wrap himself up as tightly as he wants to while they fall back against the pillows. Dean's cheek rests against Castiel's sternum, his heartbeat soft and steady against Dean's ear, and his arms wrap around Dean's shoulders as they settle down to sleep.

"So you're gonna come to the meeting tomorrow?"

Castiel hums, running a hand through Dean's hair. "If you'd like me to, I would very much enjoy coming with you."

Dean smiles, kissing Castiel's chest. "Sure. Why not? It'll be a hoot."

* * *

Chapter Text

"Dean, oh my God, you made it!"

Dean huffs as he does his best to balance the weight of a very hyperactive Omega barreling into his arms. Samandriel wraps his arms tight around Dean's chest, squeezing as tightly as he can, before he lets go and lets Dean hold him at arm's length.

"Alfie, how ya doin', kid?" Dean asks, smiling at him. Samandriel is adorable, even for an Omega, with his bright, glassy blue eyes and scruffy blond hair. Samandriel's eyes flash to Castiel, at Dean's side, and Dean steps back to gesture between them. "Alfie, you know about Cas already?"

"Oh! Castiel, great to meet you," Samandriel says, holding his hand out for Castiel to shake. Castiel smiles at him, clasping the back of Samandriel's hand when they shake, before letting go. "Dean's told me so much about you. It's good to finally put a name to the face."

"And you," Castiel replies with a soft smile. "I'm really glad to be here."

"Oh, you have to meet everyone!" Samandriel says, reaching out taking both Dean and Castiel's hands and pulling him towards the back of the coffee house. It's a large, bright building, with wooden paneling on the walls and splashes of color in the form of art at eye level. There are bright lights hanging four feet down from the high, grey ceiling. It's a bright, airy place, relaxing and quiet with calm music floating from speakers set into the corners.

The back of the room is crowded, flanked up against the barista's corner and the bar. There are about a dozen already gathered in the white circular tables and lime green chairs. A few of them look up to greet Dean and several move aside to make space in three of the chairs in the far corner of the room.

"Hey everyone, this is Cas, my mate. Cas, everyone."

"Helpful," Castiel says dryly, earning a scattering of laughter.

He sits down between Dean and another Alpha, with dark skin and wide, brown eyes. "Cas, this is Raphael," Dean says, nodding to the Alpha. Castiel holds out his hand in greeting.

Raphael fixes Castiel with a long look, one black, thin eyebrow raised, before taking his hand and shaking it. "Are you part of the community?" Raphael asks, in a voice that is slightly too high for the Alpha's square jaw and broad shoulders.

Castiel shakes his head. "I'm here as an ally, and Dean speaks so highly of all of you," he says with a respectful nod to those whose attentions he's holding. "I'm just a male Alpha, nothing more."

Raphael smiles, baring white teeth. "I'm an Alpha, too. Designated male, but taking Femm for about three years now." Castiel nods, smiling at her. "Have you been around for a lot of Dean's transition?"

Castiel nods. "Dean and I have been together for several years, now," he says. He can feel Dean take his hand, squeezing, and looks away just briefly to smile at his mate. "Thinking about it, I suppose loving another Alpha does make me gay, doesn't it?"

Dean laughs, kissing the back of Castiel's hand. "You're as queer as the rest of us, sweetheart," he says with a wink. To his left, Samandriel giggles into his latte. He has his heels up on the chair, curled up and soft-looking like a kitten. To Samandriel's left is another Omega, her arm spread out across the back of his chair, her eyes a pretty brown and ringed with gold. "Cas, you've heard me talk about Jo."

Castiel nods her way, smiling when Samandriel leans into Jo's embrace and she kisses the top of his head, a quick peck. He remembers Dean mentioning Jo, calling her 'spunky' and 'hot'. She is attractive, he'll admit – and Samandriel, too – but neither of them could compare to Dean. He turns his head and kisses Dean's shoulder, squeezing his mate's hand again.

Another newcomer migrates from the other half of the group. He's male, older than everyone except perhaps Raphael, and dressed in a clean blue suit, black tie, white shirt. He looks like the kind of man people automatically stand in a room for, even if they don't know him.

Dean does, in fact, stand, letting go of Castiel's hand to clasp the suited man by the forearm and give him a firm squeeze. "Michael," he says, his voice soft and respectful. "Didn't think you were gonna ever show up here again."

Michael smiles, the sternness melting away into a pleasant expression. He lets go of Dean's arm and slides his hands into the pockets of his slacks, at ease, shoulders slouching as he focuses his attention on Dean. "I was in the neighborhood," he says. "You're looking…very well, Dean."

Dean grins at him, and Castiel does his best to avert his eyes and tamp down the ugly feelings stirring up in his chest. "Not lookin' so bad yourself. Adam's been good for you."

"Yes." For a long moment neither of them move, and then Michael clears his throat, his eyes finally falling away from Dean's to look around the rest of those gathered. Castiel's eyes move just enough to meet and hold his gaze, and he fights the urge to pull Dean back down onto his lap and rub his cheek all over his face like a cat. The corner of Michael's mouth turns up. "This must be Castiel, then." He holds a hand out and Castiel, for a moment, just blinks at it. "I hope you're being good to him."

Castiel stands, taking Michael's hand and shaking it as hard as he dares. "I assure you, I am," he says. He knows his voice is harsh, his tone curt, but if Michael or Dean notice they don't call him out on it. Castiel does feel Dean's hand slide into the back pocket of his jeans, though, and the touch does go a long way to calm him down. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid you have the advantage over me: how do you and Dean know each other?"

"Oh, from a long time ago," Michael says with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Dean and I were together in college."

"Michael had already transitioned by then," Dean says, an almost reverent quality to his voice. "He helped me figure out that I was O-to-A in the first place. He was the one who started this whole meet-up thing."

"I'm glad you seem more comfortable in your own skin," Michael adds with a nod, his smile widening. He reaches out and squeezes Dean's shoulder before letting his hand drop. Castiel fights the urge to growl, his jaw clenching to stop a sound escaping. "It was good to see you again, Dean. You and Castiel should join Adam and me for dinner sometime."

"That'd be awesome!" Dean replies enthusiastically.

"You have my number." With another nod to the rest of the group, Michael extricates himself from the main party. Dean sees him get caught up in conversation with Inias and Hester on the way out, and then his attention is caught by his mate's soft, annoyed sound.

The ring of red in Castiel's eyes is thicker than normal. Not enough to be worried about, but standing as close as he is and after so long together Dean can recognize the signs of when Castiel is angry and trying to curb his tongue. He squeezes Castiel's ass where he's touching through the pocket of his jeans, drawing his attention.

"You okay?" he asks, frowning.

Castiel nods, blowing out a heavy breath through his nose. "It's nothing," he says with a sigh. Dean's frown deepens, but Castiel doesn't say anything more and they both sit. Dean wraps his arm around Castiel's shoulders, holding him tightly, before Samandriel and Jo capture his attention once again.

"It's difficult, isn't it?" Raphael's soft, high voice draws Castiel's attention, and he turns to look at the Alpha. Her eyes are sharp and her smile is small, knowing. "You want to act like an Alpha just threatened your Omega, but you can't, because he's not an Omega."

Castiel sighs, and shakes his head. "I've always been…possessive of my partners," he says slowly. "Dean has helped me to let go of a lot of that. I like to think I've matured, with him."

Raphael huffs, grinning large enough to show the points of her fangs. "Instinct's a hard thing to ignore, isn't it?"

Castiel licks his lips and turns his head away, unwilling to answer. Instead he rests his cheek on Dean's shoulder and feels the arm around his shoulders tighten in response, even though Dean doesn't pause in his animated conversation.

* * *

"Are you okay? You seemed…off, pretty much all day."

"I'm fine," Castiel says, rubbing his hands over his face. "Just…tired."

Dean hums, the sound disbelieving. Castiel drops his hands and fixes him with a look as Dean kills the engine and engages the parking brake.

"That's the excuse I give when I don't wanna talk about shit going on in my head," Dean says after a moment, fixing Castiel with a stern gaze. "Now, I get if you need time to organize your thoughts or whatever, but I don't want whatever's bothering you to fester and blow up like it used to."

Castiel winces. He and Dean hadn't used to be so good at communicating. Their arguments could start small and harmless, and grow, and feed off the anger until it turned into explosive shouting matches, anger-fucks, hard teeth and rough nails and whatever words they could sling at each other. Then, silences that seemed to last a thousand years until one of them yielded, too attached to give up just yet.

"I don't know how to say what I'm thinking without sounding like an ass," he admits.

Dean snorts, grinning at him although the expression is strained. "That's never stopped us before."

At that, at least Castiel manages a smile. "Have…have you and Michael ever slept together?" he asks.

Dean blinks at him, before he nods, pressing his lips together, and blows out a huge breath. His fingers work at the steering wheel, worrying the seam of the leather. "Yes," he finally admits. "We had an…arrangement, in college. One of convenience, you know? He was an Alpha, I was an Omega, questioning, you know? And he kind of helped me through it all, helped me come to terms with my bullshit. We fucked a couple times, but both of us knew it wasn't going to last."

"Are you positive of that?" Castiel hates how weak his voice sounds. "He seemed…enamored with you."

Dean smiles, his smile almost sad. "Yeah. For one thing, he's not gay. So as soon as I started identifying as Alpha and transitioning, he wasn't attracted to me anymore. He met Adam after college and they've been mated ever since."

"Oh." Castiel swallows, looking down at his hands. "I'm sorry I…I can't control my reactions sometimes. I could see your chemistry, and I had a dark moment."

Dean's hand slides into his, squeezing gently, and then Dean lifts his hand and forces his chin up, turning Castiel so their eyes can meet.

"It happens," Dean says quietly. "At least we're learning to talk about this shit before it gets really bad, yeah?"

Castiel smiles. "Yes," he says, kissing Dean's knuckles. "And, I'd be okay with going to dinner with them, if you'd like to." Seeing Dean's smile, Castiel knows that he made the right decision, talking to Dean about the situation instead of keeping it to himself. Even when their conversations are hard, they're cathartic and always worth it. It feels like with every new piece of information and every revelation and even every fight they get closer and closer together. Castiel misses Dean even when he's sitting two feet away.

Dean leans across the car to kiss lightly at Castiel's mouth, before he lets his hand go and starts to get out of the car. "C'mon, sweetheart, we gotta finish the second layer on the downstairs and finish the guest room."

"Because someone interrupted me," Castiel says, teasing. "I would've been done if you hadn't been so insistent on food and sex."

"Are you complaining?" Dean asks with raised eyebrows, pulling Castiel around the waist into the house after they get it unlocked.

"Absolutely not," Castiel replies, breathless when Dean presses him up against the hallway wall and kisses him, all hot, wandering hands and hard muscle against his body. "Mm, Dean," Castiel growls, warningly, his hands fisting in the halves of Dean's leather jacket, "don't start something we can't finish."

"I could finish it," Dean says, kissing Castiel again, his eyes orange, body warm. Castiel can smell the slick already forming, Dean's arousal singing sweetly underneath his skin. When the doctors had told Dean that the T&A hormones would increase his sex drive, they weren't kidding. "Don't want my mate thinkin' he's not the best I ever had, only thing I want -."

He pulls away, just enough to turn Castiel around and flatten him against the wall again, cheek against the wall and palms braced at head height.

Castiel groans when Dean reaches around him, warm hand wrapping around his cock, dipped under the loose waistband of his jeans and through the hole of his underwear.

"You wanna?" Dean asks, teeth edging the nape of his neck. Castiel growls at him, eyes red and half-closed. "Wanna get fucked, Cas? You were so needy last night -."

He's cut off at a swift jab against his ribs, Castiel's elbow thrown back to dislodge Dean enough that he can bolt down the hallway. Dean grunts. "Oh, you're gonna get it for that!" he yells, and Castiel just laughs and runs for the stairs. He can hear Dean's heavy footsteps running behind him, and he rounds the corner to the hall leading to the main bedroom and presses himself flat against the wall, breathing deep. When Dean comes careening around the corner Castiel tackles him, pinning Dean down on his back with Dean's wrists under his shins, by Dean's waist, and Castiel's weight settled over his stomach.

He catches Dean's chin and leans over him, one hand braced by Dean's head, his weight keeping Dean's arms pinned. "Behave," he whispers, breath ghosting over Dean's lips. His mate's mouth parts, tongue catching Castiel's top lip in a pathetic attempt to kiss him, and Castiel smiles.

"Cas," Dean hisses, his eyes orange and wide. He leans up, snatches a brief kiss from Castiel's mouth before Castiel leans back, rearing up and out of reach of his mate.

"Stay down," Castiel says, then shifts back onto his heels so that he can strip Dean of his jeans and underwear, as quickly as he can because he's sure Dean will start to fight back if he gets too impatient. Dean growls only subsiding when Castiel kneels between his legs and leans down to lick a thick, wet stripe up the vein on the underside of Dean's cock.

"Mm, fuck yeah," Dean sighs, letting his head rest against the carpet, body going lax as Castiel wraps his lips around the head of Dean's cock and starts to gently suck. His fingers tease at the base of Dean's cock, circling up and spreading his saliva down the shaft. "Fuck, Cas, yeah, suck me."

One of Dean's hands wraps in Castiel's thick hair, just resting, not guiding him yet. Castiel shifts onto his knees and elbows, working his mouth slowly up and down his mate's cock as his other hand scoops at Dean's steadily leaking slick, getting his fingers wet.

Sucking Dean's cock has always been the most delicious kind of torture. This close to the scent of him, senses filled with the scent of a beautiful, ripe Omega, it's hard to remember sometimes that Dean isn't an Omega and Castiel can't treat him like one.

He's glad that Dean doesn't go into Heat. He's sure the effects would be too damaging to both of them.

He pulls off of Dean's cock, earning a protesting whine from his mate, and fumbles with his jeans, hands too wet to go quickly. Dean's sharp eyes catch the movement and he bites his lower lip, unsure.

"I'm going to get myself ready," Castiel says softly. Dean's eyes clear for a moment, put at ease again. "I want to ride you, Dean." He waits for another minute, watching Dean's face. "Is that okay?"

Dean nods. "Yeah, 'course it is," he says quietly, reaching for Castiel again and pulling him in by the thighs so that Castiel can straddle his waist, head of his cock pinned underneath the saddle of Castiel's jeans. After a bit of awkward fumbling they manage to push Castiel's clothes to his knees, freeing enough of him to fuck.

Dean bites his lower lip, eyes darkening when Castiel smirks at him. Dean has a thing about being mostly-clothed while still fucking. Whereas Castiel likes to lay them out in bed and feel all of their skin sliding against each other and feeling all of he can of his mate, Dean gets off on the rough-and-ready edge, the must have you now, the thought of pulling someone's jeans down just enough to free a fuckable hole and getting off quick and dirty and putting someone away wet.

Castiel pushes his wet fingers against his ass, closing his eyes and letting out a low groan when the sore muscle stretches and makes way for the intrusion. They went rough last night – they always do when Dean starts biting – and he's still a little sore, but the ache makes him want it all the more. He wants to feel Dean consuming him from the inside out, wants to feel as owned as any full-blooded Omega might. It fascinates him, the power play and the ownership of something as simple as sex.

Castiel has never had any issue with his designated gender or sex, but he thinks that, maybe if he had been born Omega, he might fit against Dean just a little bit better.

Dean surges up, catching Castiel's mouth and kissing him fiercely, hands settling at the small of Castiel's back and fisting in his t-shirt. "Don't tease, Cas," he says, his pupil so wide Castiel can barely see the glow of orange in his iris.

Castiel kisses him again, bites into his mouth, licks behind his teeth. "I have no intention of teasing you, beloved," he replies, his throat tight with longing and urgency. "I just wish my body was as quick to be ready as yours is."

Dean's eyes search his, steady, his breathing harsh. "Cas," he says, flattening one hand on his mate's cheek, smoothing over Castiel's pink lower lip. "You're perfect the way you are, capisce?"

Castiel laughs, leaning their foreheads together. "Yeah, I capisce," he says with a small shake of his head, always amazed at the way Dean can make any worry go away with a single sentence. When they'd first met, Castiel had been working himself to the bone trying to make ends meet and waiting for a promotion that would never come, he'd snapped at anything and anyone that breathed near him wrong, and one bad joke later Dean had had him laughing like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard.

One of Dean's hands tease at Castiel's fingers, helping him with more slick to work them inside. "You think you're ready?" he asks.

Castiel nods, sucking in a breath and pulling his fingers away to wrap instead around the back of Dean's neck. His fingers squeeze at Dean's nape but it only makes Dean shiver, closing his eyes, going lax underneath Castiel.

"Cas," he whispers, his voice unsteady.

"Fuck me, Alpha," Castiel says, growling the words into Dean's ear as he uses his other hand to guide Dean's cock inside of him, thick head pushing against his sore rim and sinking inside. They both let out rough sounds of effort and strain, but Castiel is used to the rebellion in his body and he breathes out, pushes, relaxes, and lets Dean all the way inside of him. "Come on, Dean –." He sucks in a breath, the words sharp and cruel and meant to incense; "Fuck and claim your little Omega bitch."

"Fuck." Dean lets out this angry, challenging snarl, one hand fisting Castiel's t-shirt tight enough to threaten ripping it, the other grabbing his bare thigh, and he falls back and hauls Castiel to his stomach, then rolls them over so that Castiel is pinned on his back. "Omegas aren't on top," he snarls, biting the words into Castiel's mouth. "They lay back and take it."

"Yes," Castiel hisses, digging his nails into Dean's ass. He can feel the slick parts between Dean's cheeks but he ignores it, instead raking his nails up Dean's back. "Come on, Alpha, fuck me."

His hands hit Dean's shirt, rake up underneath, shy away to find his neck instead, his sweat-damp hair. Dean kisses him, biceps pushing Castiel's legs up, hands at the backs of his thighs and chest using the clothes still hobbling Castiel's legs to keep him pinned down. Castiel has always been flexible and he's never been more thankful for it than in moments like this, with his ass tilted up in offering and his legs spread wide and Dean pinning him, weight hot and heavy and mouth burning brands onto Castiel's lips and neck.

Dean growls, nosing Castiel's head to one side and sucking in a deep breath, face pressed to Castiel's neck. "Mine," he murmurs, fucking in as hard as he can. He's getting hot and sweaty all over and Castiel can feel the sweat beading on the back of his neck and underneath his back and behind his knees. They're filthy and messy and he loves it. Like this, Dean's cock is rubbing against his insides in a way that makes it feel like his cock is being stroked from the inside, from the very base and out and he can feel his knot itching, aching for something to wrap around it.

"Mine," Castiel echoes, raking his nails down Dean's back again.

Dean hisses, lifting his head, his teeth bared in something feral and promising that makes arousal coil up like a snake inside of Castiel's gut, poised to strike. "Yeah, sweetheart. This," he punctuates the word with a hard thrust that makes Castiel's eyes flutter and his breath leave him in a soundless gasp, "is all yours. Only one I've ever fucked that's gotten this, you know that?"

Castiel knows. He's the only partner Dean has had that's accepted him as an Alpha and wanted him to fuck like one. His expression softens and he reaches up to brush his hands against his mate's cheeks.

Dean closes his eyes, bows his head. "Fuck, your ass is so tight, Cas," he growls, and Castiel hums, knowing the moment is gone. Even though Dean tries to reassure him whenever he gets jealous or possessive, it's unfair to expect that when their blood is running hot and orgasm is biting at the base of their skulls. He clenches up around Dean's cock, eager for his come. The way Dean is fucking him he's sure Dean can get him off by fucking alone.

Still, he reaches down and teases at his leaking cockhead, shivering with every little extra tail-flick of pleasure licking up his spine. "Gonna fill me up, Alpha?" he asks, driven by Dean's dirty mouth, knowing Dean likes to be goaded on when he's close. "You barely gave me any last night. I want more."

"Fuck, yeah, gonna give you all of it," Dean hisses, hands sliding to the back of Castiel's sweaty knees and shoving him just a little farther. Each thrust makes Castiel's shoulders burn and his cock twitches, that pressure building up with every inward swipe of Dean's cock over his prostate. Castiel whines, eyes closing, breath hitching.

Dean comes with a long, low groan, his hips twitching and pressing tight to Castiel's ass. His body moves in little circles, chasing the itch of a knot that isn't there. Castiel sucks in a breath, squeezing the head of his cock as he feels his belly tighten, thighs squeezing together. Dean has to let him go because his body arches so suddenly, breathing choked and coming out in little gasps and he spills all over his hand and his t-shirt.

"Oh…my God," he moans, thighs trembling, cheeks red. He can feel Dean's come leaking out from his ass and he's a mess, well-fucked like an actual Omega. Dean stares at him, amazed, before his expression melts into a satisfied, knowing grin.

"Look so pretty comin' on my cock, Cas," he whispers, hands rubbing up Castiel's trembling stomach and heaving chest. "Like a real Omega, hmm? I bet if I could knot you, you'd come every time like the knotslut you are."

Castiel's face is red, his breathing unsteady, but he feels his entire body clench in desire at Dean's words. He licks his dry lips, accepting Dean's kiss, and tilts his neck up into his mate's wandering mouth and lets Dean sink in a shallow, sharp bite.

Dean pets through his sweaty hair, a low purr rumbling in his chest. "Good boy."

* * *

They do manage to finish the paintjob on the inside of the house, thank God. Castiel might go crazy if it had ended up taking any longer. The sparse furniture that they'd brought from both his apartment and Dean's barely takes up three rooms in the entire house, but Castiel figures they'll have years and years to fill it with things that make a house a home.

"You should call Michael," Castiel suggests on the Sunday night, when they're curled up on the couch and finishing off an Indiana Jones marathon. Dean raises an eyebrow, fixing him with a look. Castiel can't quite look up from where his head is resting against Dean's neck, Dean's arm around his shoulders keeping him warm and pinned. "I regret acting like I did with him before, and I would like to get to know him better. It would be rude to turn down the invitation."

Dean huffs. "I'll call him on my lunch break tomorrow," he says, kissing Castiel on the top of his head.

* * *

"Cas has been acting weird."

"'Weird', how?" Charlie asks, pushing her glasses further up her nose. She has a new pad of paper, Dean notices. He wonders if he actually takes up that much room, or if she uses the same pad for all of her patients and he just happened to break the seal of a new one.

He sighs, sitting back in the chair. One ankle hooks at his knee, foot jogging up and down, and he rubs his hand over his mouth. "I don't really…know how to describe it," he says, giving a frustrated huff. "I did that whole 'sharing is caring' thing you're so big on, was more open about shit that went on in my life and…I don't know. Something's changed."

"Do you think it has something to do with this more open communication?"

Dean shakes his head again. "If anything, he's gotten more closed off," he says with a sigh. "I never used to have trouble telling what he was thinking, not after we'd been dating for a while, you know? Now I just…" He snaps his fingers, whistles short and sharp and mimics the gesture of something going up in smoke. "And he's started clearing his internet history."

Charlie raises one eyebrow. "You check his internet history?"

"No! That's the thing." Dean leans forward, planting both feet on the ground, elbows on his thighs. "I accidentally closed a tab and I went into the history trying to find it, and there was nothing before I had gotten to the computer that day. I'm sure he's never been doing that before."

He sighs again, rubbing his hands through his hair. "I just don't know what he's hiding from me."

"Crazy idea," Charlie says, "but have you tried asking him?"

"Yes!" Dean replies sharply, slicing his hands through the air, palms facing each other, framing his vision of the floor. "Yes, I have – and he just, just shuts off. I don't know what's different."

"Well, alright, walk me through the week," Charlie replies. She sets her pad of paper across her knees, closes her ankles, and straightens in her chair. "Let's see if there's anything that stands out. What have you done since last week that might have been different?"

"Uh…" Dean sighs, rubbing his hand over his mouth again. "I mean, we finished fixing up the house to the point we wanted. We've been looking at Goddamn furniture catalogues, for fuck's sake. Doing boring house shit."

Charlie nods, looking down just long enough to write something down. "Is it you initiating things like this, or Cas?"

"Uh, Cas, usually," Dean says, looking away as he thinks. "He's more interested in the domestic stuff."

"Hmm." Charlie writes another thing down, biting the side of her lower lip. "Alright. What else did you guys do this week?"

"I, ah…" Dean straightens up, eyes widening. "I took him to one of my weekend meet-ups with the rest of the group," he says. "You know, people like me."

"Transgender and trans-O.A. people?"

"The whole umbrella," Dean says with a dismissive wave of his hand. "He's talked to one of my friends, Alfie, who's gay with his girlfriend who also goes, and there's a bunch of us under the L.G.B.T. group that meet up there. But he seemed cool going. He wanted to go."

"Okay. Did anything happen there?" Charlie asks.

"I – I mean, one of my college buddies showed up. Michael. Cas got a little jealous but we talked about it and he seemed fine again. Even took up the invitation to have dinner at his house."

Charlie pauses for a moment, before she reaches down to a small mini-filing box sitting by her chair. Within one of her folders is another pad like the one she's currently holding, covered in scrawling notes. Dean swallows as it's confirmed that apparently he is screwed up enough to need a whole damn pad all to himself.

"Michael," Charlie mutters under her breath. "Michael is the…" She flips through several pages, finding his name with one of her fingers. "He's the trans-Alpha who helped you come to terms with your own gender dysphoria and identity, isn't he?"

Dean nods, blowing out a breath. "Yeah. He was already full-blooded by the time we met, and he helped me a lot. Cas didn't like that, ah, I'd had a relationship with him before. But he got over it when I explained it was all in the past, you know? And that Michael was happily mated and totally not gay for me."

"But Michael was attracted to you when you identified as Omega?" Charlie asks, looking at Dean from over the edge of her classes for confirmation.

Dean frowns. "I mean, yeah, I guess. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Maybe nothing," Charlie replies, shrugging one shoulder. "Then what happened with the rest of your week?"

Dean glares at her for a moment, before he subsides with a huff. "Uh…nothing, really. I worked, Cas worked. It didn't even seem to be a hard week for him. I think he's even in line for a promotion, maybe – the one he's been working really hard for. It's all coming up Cas. I – whatever it is, I gotta be the issue."

"Maybe not." Charlie's voice is quiet and placating. Dean hates that tone of voice – it's what people might use to calm down frantic Omegas and a frantic Omega he is not. "Are you sure there's nothing else out of the ordinary that happened?"

At that, Dean blushes slightly, averting his eyes. "Well…" He rubs the back of his neck, sighing through his teeth. "I'm not sure how much you wanna hear."

"Dean, I'm your therapist. You tell me exactly how much you want to. But if you want my opinion or an outsider's perspective, you gotta tell me everything you think might help."

Oh, this conversation is going to suck.

Dean sighs heavily. "Okay, so like, when Cas and I fuck, it's always great. Like it's always great. Even lazy or half-asleep or rushed or whatever, Cas is the best I've ever had." Charlie smiles at him, half encouragement, half happiness at seeing the notable pride and love in Dean's voice. "But this week it's been, like…even better. Hotter, somehow. More intense. I don't know what's changed. But every time we're done Cas gets all closed-off again and he won't tell me what he's thinking."

Charlie's brows come together and a small line forms on her forehead. She nods thoughtfully. "Have you introduced a new dynamic or done anything differently when you have sex?" she asks. Her pen taps against her notepad, poised and ready.

"If you mean like have I given my ass up, I already do that," Dean says with a shrug. "I don't have too big a problem most of the time with switching. Usually at some point in the night my dick's in use, sometimes we just use my slick for Cas and that's all the attention my ass gets. It's always good and Cas knows what I am so there haven't been any issues on my end."

"Way you're talkin', sounds like there might be some on Cas' end?" Charlie prompts, eyebrows raising.

"I don't think so?" Dean says, shaking his head, hands splaying wide in a helpless stance.

Charlie doesn't say anything. The silence hangs, expectant and heavy.

"Okay, fuck, so -." Dean rubs his hands across his eyes, sucking in a breath. "So sometimes, we like, roleplay, okay? Not like nurse and doctor or teacher or anything like that, but sometimes he'll – he'll call me 'Alpha' and ask me to fuck him 'like an Omega' and, and sometimes I play along…. And he gets really into it." Dean's cheeks feel hot from his blush. He's never talked to Charlie about sexual encounters that actually meant anything. Hell, he's never really talked about sex, with Charlie, ever. But it feels wrong, talking about something so intimate and secret between him and his mate. "Like, really into it. Saturday night I was pillow-talkin' about how if I could knot him I would and, Christ, we ended up fucking like six times that night."

"And did Cas bottom every time?"

Dean nods. "It's weird," he says, frowning. "I mean, I knew he was gay but at the same time I didn't think he'd be so into receiving, as an Alpha, you know? Sometimes I think he likes taking my dick more than anything else."

"Some people have certain preferences like that," Charlie says lightly.

"But it was weird. When he went to the meet-up, it was like he didn't even realize he was gay, until he realized he was dating me, like, an Alpha, you know?"

Charlie makes a small sound. When Dean looks up, she's scribbling rapidly away on her notepad. "What're you writin'?" he asks, craning his neck to see.

She quickly covers up her notes with a forearm. "Confidential," she says quickly, fixing him with a stern look before finishing whatever she was writing. "I think I have a theory."

"Yeah?"

"But it's only a theory," she adds, holding up a hand in an encouragement for Dean to back down. "I mean, I've never met Cas, and you don't talk about him too much except to say he makes you happy, which makes me happy, so -."

"Charlie, you're rambling."

"Right. Sorry." She clears her throat, pushing her glasses back up her nose again. "It just…might be worth considering that Cas…isn't gay." She presses her lips together, tendons in her throat flexing when Dean merely frowns at her in confusion. "In the same way that…if you identified as an Omega, dating Cas…you wouldn't be gay."

She waits until Dean's eyes widen with understanding before holding up her hands. "It's just a theory, Dean. Please, please don't push him. If I'm wrong, or if he isn't ready to come to terms with this kind of thing about himself, it's not your place to push him into it."

Dean blows out a breath, his excited words dying before they can leave his mouth. "It just…I guess that kind of makes sense?" He looks away, rubbing his hands over his face, heaving in a deep breath. "I mean, it makes sense that that's why he'd wanna talk to Michael, right?" Charlie fixes him with a warning look and Dean nods, irritated. "I'm not gonna push, fuck, I of all people should know better."

"It's given you a lot to think about," Charlie concedes with a nod. "Why don't we end our session for today, and you go back home to Cas, alright?"

"Alright. Thanks, Charlie." Dean stands as she does, and he pulls her into a brief, tight hug that she returns. "I'll see you next week?"

"Rock on, rockasawn," Charlie replies, giving the Vulcan salute as Dean leaves. God, she's so weird. Dean loves her.

* * *

Of course it makes sense. Thinking back, Dean's amazed he had ever thought Castiel to be a full-blooded Alpha. Hell, even when they cuddle, Castiel likes to have his head lower, his body surrounded with Dean's even though he protests it in bed first thing in the morning. He's always been more of the home-maker, especially for someone who's almost never at home during the day.

Dean sighs. He should have noticed. A good mate would have noticed that Castiel was uncomfortable in his own skin. Hell, Dean had been there – he is that guy. He should have seen the signs.

He pulls into the driveway and takes a deep breath, remembering Charlie's warning not to push too hard or make Castiel come to terms with something he isn't ready for yet. He should…test the waters. Yeah, maybe be a little more assertive, test Castiel's reaction, see if he reacts like a full-blood Omega might. If he's still clinging to his identity as an Alpha it might be hard, but Dean's willing to try. If his mate isn't happy then Dean will do whatever it takes to make him happy.

The house smells musty and warm, and Dean toes off his boots and socks and shrugs his jacket off before opening one of the kitchen windows that opens to the back garden. There's a screen to keep bugs out, and even though it's far too cold for that Dean appreciates the fact that he doesn't have to bother with bug spray. Bugs fucking love his blood, always have.

"Cas?" he calls, traipsing through the house until he hears the sound of movement upstairs. "Cas, sweetheart, you here?"

He climbs to the top floor, looking around, and hears sounds from the main bedroom. "Cas?" he calls again, and just as he makes it to the door Castiel opens it, looking blushing and bright-eyed.

"Dean!" he says, pulling Dean in by the arm. "I have news!"

Dean looks him over, head cocked, before he smiles. "What are you doing home so early?"

"That's part of the news!" Castiel says, throwing his arms out to either side.

"What, they give you that promotion you've been gunnin' for?"

"Actually, yes," Castiel says, dropping his arms and straightening with a grin.

Dean grins back at him. "Fuck, baby, that's great news!" he replies, holding his arms out for a celebratory hug.

"And…so I quit," Castiel finishes, stalling the hug. Dean gapes at him, arms dropping. "I turned down a job with almost a whole other zero on top of my paycheck, better benefits and hours and they fought so hard to keep me and I fucking quit."

"I…why?" Dean asks. "You've been working there for so long. I mean, it's your decision and you know I'll support you, Cas, but -?"

"I didn't want to work there anymore, Dean," Castiel murmurs, shaking his head. His eyes are wide and imploring Dean to understand. "I don't do things I like, I spend my working hours making peoples' lives miserable and I'm surrounded by testosterone and competitiveness and I just…I just fucking quit. I'm not gonna do that for the rest of my life."

Okay. "Okay," Dean breathes, nodding. He pulls his mate into a tight hug, squeezing when Castiel's fingers cling to his shoulders and he presses his face against Dean's neck. "Okay, sweetheart. It's okay."

"No it's not," Castiel replies, voice muffled, miserable. "We can't afford this house without my paycheck."

"You can get another job," Dean says, stroking a hand up and down Castiel's spine, up through his hair, before slowly settling it on the nape of Castiel's neck. He smiles when he feels Castiel go lax against him, sighing softly. "Or I'll take up more hours or look for promotions or something that pays more. You can stay at home and I'll earn the money, sweetheart. Trust me, I'll make it so you can do and be whatever you want."

Castiel pulls away, just far enough that he can look at Dean's face. His expression is guarded, eyes deep and dark. "Thank you," he says, equal parts gratitude and relief. "Thank you for understanding."

Dean smiles and kisses Castiel on the forehead. He doesn't miss how his mate shivers and presses up against him at the gentle, comforting touch. "I'mma take care of you, Cas," he promises quietly, hands settling at the small of Castiel's back. He noses Castiel's head back and kisses his mouth gently, licking at the seam until Castiel opens for him and lets him inside, just for a taste. "Now let's get ready to go over to Michael's, okay?"

Castiel nods, that soft almost-smile Dean knows so well crossing his face. "Alright."

* * *

Michael lives in one of those fancy apartment complexes where the foyer is marble, the elevator is large enough to fit Dean's old apartment inside of it, and there's a bouncer at the door as well as a security desk in the foyer. The air reeks of burning money. It's the kind of place where the mistresses of mayors live and the penthouse probably belongs to the head of a mafia.

Dean and Castiel enter with Dean's hand at the small of Castiel's back. It doesn't leave as they enter the elevator or as they leave it on the fifteenth floor. In fact, Dean pulls Castiel a little closer and instead slides his hand into Castiel's back pocket.

"Remember," Dean says, "Michael and I are ancient history. You'll like Adam. From what Michael's told me, he's adorable."

Castiel rolls his eyes and smiles at Dean. "I know you're mine," he says, catching Dean's chin for a long kiss. Dean hums into it, hand tightening against Castiel's ass, and raises his other hand to give a sharp rap against Michael's door.

They pull away just as the door opens, revealing the figure of a young Omega. He's baby-faced and bright-eyed, late twenties, his blue eyes thickly ringed with gold and a mop of dark blond hair on his head. His features are a strange mix of fine and strong, and he smiles at Dean and Castiel when he realizes who they are.

"Hey, I'm Adam," he says, stepping back to allow them to step inside. "It's nice to finally put a face to the name. You must be Dean," He holds his hand out to shake Dean's hand, then Castiel's, "and Castiel. It's nice to meet you."

"And you," Castiel replies. His posture is relaxed and slouched, unthreatening.

"Let me give you the tour!" Adam says, taking their coats and hanging them up. Dean looks to his feet, sees he's barefoot and toes off his boots. Castiel follows suit, taking his socks off as well and wadding them into a ball in his shoes.

The apartment suite is painted white and airy. One wall is entirely windows, and the floors are laminated wood that is cool to the touch even though the air is pleasantly warm. The little entryway opens to a large living space, filled with two large dark brown couches and a chocolate-colored carpet. There is a black coffee table covered in take-out menus and a large black television in the corner, facing away from the window-wall. To the right of the television is an arch in the white wall, revealing a glimpse of a pristinely-made bed, and on the opposite wall is a single black door.

"That's the bathroom if you need it," Adam says, pointing to the door. "Dinner should be in about half an hour. Can I get you guys a drink?"

"Water, please," Castiel says, as Dean replies, "Whatever you got for beer in the fridge."

Adam nods with a smile. "Sure. Go ahead and have a seat. Michael should be over soon."

"Michael doesn't live with you?" Castiel calls as Adam disappears through the archway. From the angle of the couch Castiel can see a waist-height mini wall and the shine of a refrigerator. It's an odd setup, having the kitchen and bed in the same area, but he supposes during Heats it might make it easier to feed an Omega if the kitchen isn't far away.

"Oh, yeah, he does," Adam says, bringing back a beer for himself and Dean and a glass of ice water for Castiel. "He got held up at work. Told me to apologize for him."

"That's fine," Dean says, slouching against the couch, his arm over the back of Castiel's spot. "Lets me get to know the guy who managed to get my oldest friend to settle down." He grins around his beer, throwing a wink Adam's way.

Adam laughs, curling his feet up on the other couch in a position much like Alfie's at the coffee shop. "It was kinda the other way around," he says with a one-shouldered shrug. "He was my financial advisor and, well, let's just say we broke a couple workplace codes before I realized I was too in love with him to care."

Castiel chuckles. "I can see that," he says with a smile. "If Michael is anything like Dean, they both have a way of pulling you in, don't they?"

Adam nods in agreement. "It's the Midwest charm, I swear. My poor Northeast heart didn't stand a chance."

"Where are you from?" Dean asks, his arm tightening around Castiel's shoulders. His mate hums softly, blinking slowly, and settles more comfortably against Dean's side.

"Ah, my family moved around a lot, actually," Adam replies. "We spent our longest time in Maryland, Virginia kind of area. But I came to Kansas for college and I guess I kinda fell in love with it here. I love it – much less rain than the East coast."

"More tornadoes, though," Dean says, making Adam concede that with a nod. "Well, even so, glad you liked the area enough to stay. I know Michael well enough to know when he's happy, and you make him happy."

At that, Adam's face softens into a smile, full of adoration at the mention of his mate. "I am, too."

Their attention is drawn at the sound of the door opening, letting Michael in. Adam rises to greet him, hurrying over to his mate and helping him take his coat off. Then, Michael catches Adam's face and pulls him into a deep kiss. Adam melts into it, a soft sound escaping as he opens his mouth to his Alpha's tongue, lets Michael bodily push him up against the wall and shove their bodies together.

Dean clears his throat after a good minute of letting the couple make out. "You guys need some alone time?" he asks, overly-loudly.

Castiel slaps Dean's thigh lightly. "Let them have their moment," he says with a roll of his eyes. "It's not like you're any better."

"Hey! If you cut me, do I not bleed?" Dean replies, setting his beer down before he jabs his fingertips against Castiel's ribs. Castiel lets out a startled, strangled laugh, hurriedly setting his water down before he accidentally spills any. Dean's grip is strong around his neck, keeping him still while he's being tickled. "Now, what were you saying?" Dean asks, voice thick with amusement.

"You're an asshole," Castiel hisses, grabbing futilely at Dean's wandering fingers. Ever since Dean had discovered Castiel was ticklish, he'd always known exactly the right spots to poke and prod to get a reaction. It's embarrassing, and already Castiel's stomach is starting to hurt from laughing.

"Come on, Winchester, let him breathe."

Michael's voice prompts Dean to yield, the restraining arm around Castiel's neck instead being used to pull him close to Dean's body again. Castiel feels Dean's warm lips on the top of his head before he settles down with a huff, head lolling back against the couch, using Dean's arm as a pillow.

He doesn't notice the look Dean gives his exposed neck. There's a very, very faint line of bite marks up the side. Dean licks his lips, and then turns his attention back to Michael and Adam, who have disengaged their lip lock and taken their places on the other couch. Adam is curled up against his mate's side in a way very similar to the how Castiel was clinging to Dean before, and Dean licks his lips and files that information away for later.

"So what's for dinner?" he asks, settling more comfortably into the couch.

Michael grins, before he nods towards the scattered stack of take-out menus on the coffee table. "Pick your poison."

"You're kidding." Dean sits up with a groan, his arm leaving Castiel's shoulders and sliding the menus their way. "All this time and you didn't bother learning to cook?"

"Fuck cooking, man." That's Adam, piping up. Michael chuckles, reaching up to ruffle Adam's hair and stroke, once, down the back of his neck. "Seriously, even if I wasn't busting my ass in college I wouldn't bother making half the shit everyone's trying to make nowadays if I could just have someone bring it to me."

"Amen," Dean says, nodding. "I mean, I can't really talk. One week during finals me'n'Michael lived basically completely off of Steak'n'Shake and Red Bull."

"Oh, God," Michael says, shuddering. "I'd blocked that out. You puked green."

"It was awful," Dean agrees, before turning his attention back to the menus.

After a brief silence, Michael's green-red eyes turn towards Castiel, who is silently perusing another take-out menu while Dean entertains himself with the various collection of Chinese options. "How about you, Castiel?" he asks, smiling when Castiel lifts his eyes. "Do you have any horror stories of a college diet?"

"…Actually, no," Castiel says, shrugging one shoulder. "I lived from home when I studied and my mother was very, very insistent on making sure I ate well, and that my brothers and sisters did too. My father wasn't home a lot, but he sent her checks every week to pay for feeding us, clothing us, all of that. We never wanted for much of anything."

He sighs, setting the menu down and scratching at the five o'clock shadow on his face. "Honestly I think I was more traumatized by my older brother, Gabriel, than by anything I had to eat."

"Ugh, Gabriel." Dean makes a mock disgusted noise. "That asshole."

"That 'asshole' is the reason I ended up dating you in the first place," Castiel replies with a raised eyebrow, smirking when Dean rolls his eyes. Adam makes a curious sound, cocking his head to one side. "I had just turned…I think I was thirty? And I hadn't really gotten out much – certainly not enough to satisfy Gabriel's tastes. He promised me he would leave me alone for an entire month if I went to a bar with him and asked the most attractive person there for their number."

"Which, flattering," Dean says, grinning. "You were so cute and stumbling over your words."

"Worked on you," Castiel replies, taking a sip of his water with pointed nonchalance.

Dean sits up more, smiling at his mate. "It absolutely did," he says, leaning in for a quick kiss. "You know what kind of food you want?"

Castiel waves his hand. "You know what I like. I know you're gonna get Chinese."

Dean lifts his shoulders, nodding. Well, it's not like he's going to argue. Castiel knows him far too well by now.

* * *

The night is full of laughter. Castiel eventually caves and starts to drink a beer with dinner, while Adam starts to move onto heavier drinks that leave him red-cheeked and giggly, leaning against Michael's side. Dean smirks, knowing all-too-well what it looks like when Michael's going to score, even with his own mate, and can't resist throwing him a wink when Michael meets his eyes.

The food comes quickly and is delicious. Dean has to resist the urge to swipe the take-out menu because it's definitely worth keeping for later. Michael agrees to give him the name and address of the place so Dean can get a menu of his own.

It's almost ten at night when Dean looks into the fridge and sees it mostly empty.

"Hey, Michael, we need to make a beer run!" he calls, letting the door close and walking back to the back of the couch where Castiel is still perched. He lets his hands rest on his mate's shoulders, squeezing gently. "Wanna call it a night or -?"

"We don't have to," Michael says, shaking his head. "You two are more than welcome to stay the night. Besides, we're having a good time."

Dean looks down, meeting Castiel's eyes. "I'd like to stay," he says softly. "But we can go out and get more beer if you'd like."

"Dean isn't," Michael says, standing when Castiel does. "Sorry man, you've had way too much."

"I'm…not arguing with you," Dean says with a frown. He huffs a breath through his nose. "So you and Adam will go?"

"I left my I.D. at school," Adam says, guiltily. "And most of the guys around here are convinced I'm still, like, nineteen."

"Castiel and I will go, then," Michael decides, walking over to the door to retrieve his coat and shoes. Dean nods, accepting that, even if he pulls Castiel in by the hand and places a deep, warm kiss against his lips. Castiel takes like the tang of sweet and sour sauce and the slightly bitter hops of Michael's preferred beer. Dean reaches back after the kiss, pulling his wallet out and handing Castiel a twenty.

"Make sure he gets some better shit," Dean stage-whispers to his mate. "Pretty much everything about Michael's taste has gotten better 'cept his beer."

"I heard that!" Michael grumbles, shooting Dean a look that Dean just grins back at. Castiel goes to the door; twenty pocketed, and slides his socks, shoes, and coat back on. "Don't worry, Winchester, I'll have him back to you in one piece."

Dean grins again, winking at the small blush sliding up the back of his mate's neck. "You guys be safe out there."

"Dean," Castiel says, exasperated, "I'm sure we're not going far."

"He's just protective," Michael says, his voice soft and coaxing, and he squeezes Castiel's shoulder gently. Castiel sighs, nodding in acceptance, and walks back over to give Dean one more long kiss.

"I love you," he says, very quietly, just for Dean to hear.

Dean hums, "Hurry back, sweetheart." His hands cup Castiel's face, hold him just for a moment, before he lets him go. "Love you, too."

Chapter Text

* * *

Michael and Castiel are a silent pair as they walk to the elevator and ride it all the way down to the bottom floor. Outside it has begun to rain, but very lightly. It's enough to encourage red to rise in their cheeks and for their hair to get damp, but not enough to form puddles on the ground yet. Castiel shivers, digging his hands into his pockets and keeping his head down as he walks next to Michael.

They make it about half a block before Michael's voice breaks through the soft silence; "So, Castiel, I hope I've earned your favor now after our original meeting."

Castiel sucks in a breath, before he lets it out in a thick cloud of steam. "I'm…not sure what you mean," he says, lying. "I like you well enough."

Michael chuckles. "I'm very good at reading people, Castiel. It's why I do what I do for a living, and it's why I try and help people like Dean." He pauses for a moment. "You didn't like me when we first met. It's understandable: Dean and I have history. I hope I've put your mind at ease."

"I'm the one who told Dean to take up your invitation for dinner," Castiel replies firmly. "I regret my initial assumption of you. It was rash and purely instinctual and I'm sorry you noticed."

"But not that you felt it," Michael says, turning his head so that Castiel can see his smile. Castiel presses his lips together and says nothing, and pushes his hands together tighter within his coat pockets to wrap it tighter around his body. "Like I said, Castiel, there's no bad blood there."

"I'm glad." Castiel takes another deep breath, watching the cracks in the sidewalk as they walk down the block. "I would like to thank you – if it weren't for you Dean wouldn't be where he is now, who he is now. I might have met him in a completely different light and therefore might have lost him."

"Dean already knew who and what he was before I got there," Michael says. "It just took an example and an assurance for him to realize it doesn't make him broken or wrong."

"If you don't mind me asking, how did you realize you were meant to be an Alpha?" Castiel asks, his voice far too light for how heavy his heart is weighing on the question. His fingers are nervously fidgeting within the pockets of his coat.

Michael huffs a laugh. "I've had to tell this story so many times, it's no trouble," he says with a smile. It's wide enough to show the dimples in his cheeks. "My family was…well, to call them conservative would be an insult to conservatives. Even hinting at being gay, being transgender, being anything other than straight-white-perfection was going to get you sent to Hell.

I had a younger brother, Lucifer, who was always trying to earn my parents' approval. He was born Alpha and so he didn't have to earn it – he was perfect in my father's eyes."

He sighs. "I think, at first, I just wanted to be more like my brother – earn my parents' approval, you know? But the more I thought about it, about being Alpha, about mating an Omega and doing whatever is stereotypical of Alphas, I just realized it fit me more than I ever thought being an Omega could." He shrugs one shoulder. "Maybe it was the pressure, maybe it was a bunch of different things, but I kind of woke up one day and realized 'I was meant to be an Alpha'."

Castiel swallows hard, lifting his head so that he can see Michael's eyes. They both slow to a stop, and Michael's red ring in his eyes glows under the lights lining the sidewalk.

"My parents thought I was an abomination. They sent me to corrective camps, they tried to get me to go to therapy – they even tried to marry me off on my sixteenth birthday to some Alpha I'd never met who said he could 'cure' me." He shakes his head. "It was actually Lucifer who convinced them to come around."

"How?" Castiel asks, his voice soft.

"He convinced them that having two Alpha sons would be better than having one and a half-blood, or one that was 'broken'. They let me go through the surgeries, take the hormones, all of it." Michael shakes his head again, lifting his head and blowing out his exhale in a thick cloud. "They still don't call me an Alpha unless they're around guests that never knew me, so they can sell their Alpha sons or whatever, but that's kind of my story. I think it's helped that I've managed to succeed financially and that I met Adam."

He rolls his shoulders, huffing a soft laugh. "I guess we never stop trying to earn the approval of our parents. I know when Dean's father turned away from him, it devastated him."

Castiel nods. He's heard the story. "That happened in college?"

Michael nods, turning back again and resuming their walk down the block. "Halfway through sophomore year. I came back to the dorm room and it looked like a train had run through it. Everything was messed up and Dean just looked like a wreck. Didn't take much to figure out what had happened."

"It's sad," Castiel says. "I like to think my family would be accepting. We aren't particularly close anyway, so I don't think many of us would much care what happened to me beyond if I died or won the lottery."

Michael smirks. "Don't sound too bitter about it."

"I'm really not," Castiel replies. "I'm not bitter about it at all. They don't notice anything. I could be anything I wanted to be and none of them would care."

Michael is silent for a while, as they turn the corner again. Castiel can see the glowing neon of the liquor store and sighs in relief, putting his head down again and making a straight shot for it. Michael keeps up easily, apparently just as eager to get into someplace warm and dry.

"Do you think, if they'd noticed earlier, you would have, too?"

Michael waits until they're just outside the door to ask the question. Castiel freezes, looking up at him with wide eyes. Michael smiles at him, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder again. This time, Castiel doesn't go lax, but stiffens and moves to cover his neck.

"Like I said, Castiel, I'm good at reading people. If you ever need to talk, you can talk to me. And Dean, I'm sure, would want to know what's going on with you."

"I -." Castiel swallows, his eyes dropping. "I don't even know how to talk about it."

"That's okay, too." Michael's hand goes away and he pushes open the door to the liquor store. There's a little bell above the door that jingles as they enter and a bored-looking Alpha barely gives them a glance from over the newspaper spread out over his counter. "I can give you some resources, if you'd like, or the numbers of other trans-OA people I've met throughout the years."

"I would appreciate that," Castiel says, somewhat relaxed at how easy Michael is making it sound. "Thank you, very much."

Michael smiles at him. "Us queer folk have to stick together," he says, nudging Castiel's arm with his elbow.

Castiel grins. "You sound like Dean."

"Dean deserves a lot of the credit," Michael says with a nod. "He's the one who…started to normalize it, in our college at least. I helped him with himself but he helped everyone else with their confusion and fear. He made it clear that everyone was under his protection and he'd fight to protect and defend them from harassment and bullying."

"That sounds like him," Castiel murmurs, his voice warm.

"I guess what I'm saying is, don't be afraid of his reaction. He's never been anything but supportive to anyone I've ever seen."

"I know." Castiel sighs, turning his attention to the coolers lining the wall, full of beer, and begins to peruse what he thinks Dean might deem drinkable. "I know."

* * *

Dean and Castiel end up leaving Michael and Adam's apartment at around two in the morning. Castiel is sober enough to drive, and although Dean usually protests anyone but him driving the Impala, he allows it on the condition that Castiel never tells anyone that Dean was too drunk to drive off of just beer.

As they approach their house and Castiel kills the engine in the driveway, Dean presses right up against his mate's side and starts to kiss up along his neck.

"Dean," Castiel protests, his voice a gasp, shoving at Dean's shoulder. "Come on, let's at least get inside."

"Mm, can't help it – you look so good behind her wheel, Cas," Dean replies, his voice deep and rumbling, one hand sliding up the inside of Castiel's thigh.

"Ah, Dean." Castiel shivers, pushing his thighs together briefly, squirming in place. "Dean, come on, I am not fucking you in this car."

Dean makes another rough, low sound. "Fine," he says, his hand withdrawing with one final squeeze to the sensitive meat of Castiel's inner thigh. The Impala doors protest with a creak as they both get out and head to the door. Dean crowds close to Castiel's back, kissing sloppy and hot on the back of his neck as Castiel fumbles with the keys and figures out how to get the damn door open and let them inside.

Once the lock clicks back into place, Dean is on Castiel's back again, hands big and warm running down his sides, breath heavy and sweet-smelling with beer.

"You're so gorgeous, Cas," he whispers, nipping once, softly, at Castiel's ear. The other man shivers, biting his lower lip, eyes closing. "So gorgeous and – and -."

"Dean, you're drunk," Castiel says, smiling and turning within Dean's arms.

"Drunk on lurrve," Dean replies, laughing out the word.

"Let's get to bed." Castiel's voice is soft and coaxing, guiding Dean back around and up towards their bedroom.

Dean huffs, but obeys, letting Castiel lead him up the stairs and into their room. He makes a halfhearted attempt at getting his clothes off and partially succeeds, his boots kicked out into the far corners and his shirt tossed to the side, before he settles on the bed with a heavy sigh, eyes sharp on Castiel as he makes a (much more graceful) attempt at getting into bed.

After a lot more wriggling and Castiel helping him, they both manage to get down to their underwear and curl up together underneath the blankets. Castiel sighs, his head resting on Dean's shoulder, his shoulder tucked under Dean's armpit with both of Dean's arms slung around his body.

"Mm, love you, Cas," Dean murmurs, nuzzling against Castiel's forehead, his wild hair.

Castiel smiles, pressing a kiss to Dean's shoulder. His hand settles against Dean's chest, tapping along to the slow and steady beat of his heart. "I love you, too," he replies. Dean gives another sleepy hum, eyes heavy and closed.

"You can – you know you can talk to me about stuff, right?"

Dean's voice is soft, his words almost so slurred that Castiel can barely understand him. Still, the words make Castiel freeze somewhat, his breath caught in his chest. Dean nuzzles him again, nose against Castiel's temple, arms tight around him, but not constricting.

"I know that," Castiel says, equally softly.

"Mm, good," Dean whispers, voice thick with sleep. "Good."

Castiel knows Dean has fallen asleep, his words now barely a sigh, and the rest of tension in Dean's body disappears with his exhale. His arms go loose and heavy around Castiel's body and part just enough that Castiel can slowly wriggle himself out of Dean's embrace. He pulls a t-shirt on – it's Dean's, smells of his mate and outside and musk – and pads quietly out of the room, down the stairs.

Dean had set up a small office space opposite the television. The desk on which their computer sits is wide and a dark brown, scuffed around the ankles of its legs from many moves and whatever rough life its previous owners had put it through. Dean had said he'd bought it at a garage sale for twenty dollars, and it's a good table. Castiel has never had the heart to replace old or broken things.

He settles down into the comfortable office chair and pulls his feet up, his toes curling to seek refuge from their cold floors, and sighs as the computer blinks to life with a soft whir. His eyes narrow, adjusting to the brightness, before he blinks the spots away and signs in.

He had exchanged phone numbers with Michael before returning to the apartment with more alcohol. There are several texts from Michael now with websites and resources Castiel can access. Castiel has visited a few of them before – when he first met Dean he'd wanted to be as supportive and as good an ally as he could have been to his mate – but now, visiting it for reasons for more personal, he feels like something cold and clammy is crawling up the back of his neck.

He's not sure he qualifies as the same kind as transgender as Dean is. He has never been particularly unhappy with being an Alpha. Working a high-power job and succeeding financially and finding a mate and raising a family is just something expected of Alphas – he had never cared for the idea nor had it repulsed him.

Today, at his job, that had changed. The thought of being promoted, of holding more weight on his shoulders in exchange for ridiculous amounts of money had repulsed him. He'd found himself daydreaming, thinking of finishing the paintjob on the house, of renovating the basement, of planting a garden. Simple, calming things.

Things an Omega would be responsible for.

He chews on the inside of his lip, scrolling through pages and pages of Frequently Asked Questions, forums, and chat rooms. His eyes burn from reading so much, exhaustion presses on the top of his skull the more he reads, but he finds himself unable to stop, his mind racing.

He's so immersed in reading that he doesn't notice the light slowly creeping in through the back downstairs window, and he doesn't realize that he's hearing approaching footsteps until Dean is almost on him.

Panicked, he straightens and closes the browser, turning around just in time to see Dean rounding the corner.

"God, I have the hangover from Hell," Dean groans, rubbing at his eyes. He freezes at the entry to the little alcove where the computer rests, his eyes sharpening as he looks between the blank desktop and Castiel's flushed, guilty expression. "You been up all night?"

Castiel hesitates, his tongue choking on a lie. Then, he nods. "I couldn't sleep," he says numbly.

Dean nods after a long moment. Castiel can feel the weight of his gaze on the top of his head, on his shoulders. He feels like he might dissolve into a puddle under the pressure of Dean's stare. Then, "Alright. You hungry?"

Castiel nods again. "Starving."

"I'll make us something to eat, then. You want coffee?"

Castiel makes a soft noise of assent, standing and trudging after Dean into the kitchen. It feels like a death march. Dean had seen Castiel closing out of something. If he's suspicious enough he might go looking. What will Castiel even say? What can he say?

He sits at the little island of their kitchen, eyes on the countertop, and tries to make himself as small as possible.

It seems like Dean sets coffee and food in front of him sooner than physically possible, like he managed to cook breakfast between one blink and the next. Castiel cups the coffee mug in shaking hands, bringing it to his lips.

Three sugars, no milk.

He sets it down, sucking in a deep, ragged breath. "Dean -."

"Eat, sweetheart," Dean says, pushing at the edge of his plate. "Eat, then we can talk."

"I feel like I'm going to vomit."

Dean presses his lips together, arms crossed over his chest. He hasn't prepared any food for himself. Castiel's stomach turns and his feet drum nervously against the floor. "You don't have to eat if you don't want to," Dean says, voice still just as gentle. "But you don't look so good either. Please, eat? For me?"

For Dean. Castiel picks up the fork, digging it into the hearty pile of eggs Dean gave him. There's bacon and potatoes chopped up fine with garlic and onions on the plate, too, but Castiel isn't sure his stomach can handle the grease. Even though he drove home last night he still did have enough alcohol that the thought of that much food is making him queasy.

Plus, his stomach is so twisted up in knots that he's not sure he'll keep anything down anyway.

He makes it halfway through the eggs before he pushes the food away. Dean takes it, sets it down by the sink without a word, and then settles himself on the seat next to Castiel. Castiel folds his hands on the counter, forearms resting on the edge, loosely clasped as though in prayer. He's bitten through the first layer of skin on his lower lip and it tastes like it's bleeding now.

Dean clears his throat, scratches over the back of his neck, and then opens his hands in Castiel's direction. "Talk to me."

Castiel's eyes flash to Dean's, sees them open and earnest and wholly green, and he sucks in another breath. "I don't even know where to start."

Dean nods, pursing his lips. He glances back over his shoulder, towards the computer. "How about we start with whatever you're lookin' up that you don't think I want to see?"

Castiel nods, blowing out a breath. "It's…queer forums," he says, not even sure why he sounds so guilty but unable to hide it from his voice anyway. "Chat rooms, information, stuff like that. I've looked up a few things during our relationship before, to make sure I didn't inadvertently offend you or act like an asshole."

Dean nods, licking his lips. "Alright," he says gently. "That's – that's normal, Cas, why -?"

"I wasn't looking for you, this time," Castiel says, his voice sharp. "I was…I was looking for myself."

Dean blinks at him. "…Okay," he says, unsure.

"I spoke with Michael, and I – I don't know. All my life," he unclasps his hands, presses one palm against his chest, "I've felt like something has just been decided for me. I had no issue with it until recently – until I saw what you had made of your life. And Michael told me about his journey, and a little of yours, and I felt like…like there was suddenly so much more choice and I suppose I'm having trouble coming to terms with that."

Dean frowns, his eyes dark. He's trying desperately to understand.

"I have never had an issue with being an Alpha before. Never. But being with you makes me…want something else. I enjoy being dominated by you, Dean. I enjoy the idea of doing things Alphas don't do. I feel like you're safe to be – to be whatever I want to be around. And I don't know what that means."

Dean reaches out, takes his free hand and squeezes tightly. "I told you I loved you just the way you are," Dean says, quietly, and Castiel bites his lip and looks away, "and that's not gonna change, Cas. Whatever you wanna be, I'm there for you."

"I'm not sure what I want to be," Castiel says. "I just quit my job, I want to – fuck, I want to stay home, make a home. I want to do everything Alphas aren't meant to enjoy."

"Hey." Dean's all too familiar with that self-hating tone in Castiel's voice. He lifts their hands and turns Castiel's chin to face him. "I'm gonna tell you something Michael told me once, and Charlie's been trying to knock into my head since day one: no one gets to tell you who or what you are 'cept yourself." At that, Castiel manages a small smile. "It's a journey, Cas, it's a process figuring out who you are and what you like. And, if you want, we can figure that out together."

Castiel breathes out heavily. He can feel his eyes prickling red. "You make it sound easy," he says with a small, sad laugh.

"I've had a lot of practice," Dean replies with a smile. "But it's your pace, your decisions, everything you want, sweetheart. I just wanna see you safe and happy, whatever that takes."

"I don't…I don't think I'll ever try and change myself, biologically," Castiel says slowly, pulling his face away so that he can stare at the counter again, but his hand squeezes Dean as tightly as he can. "I'm not sure I'll need that for myself. I don't know yet. I just think – I think I'd like to see how…how it feels to be more Omega."

Dean smiles. "You got it, Cas," he says, pulling Castiel's hand to his mouth for a gentle kiss.

* * *

"So, how has this week been for you, Dean?"

Dean rubs his hands through his hair. He's smiling, but his posture is exhausted. "It's been…one hell of a ride, Charlie," he says, looking up to meet the Beta's eyes. "Cas has – Cas has started to think he might not be full-blooded."

Charlie nods, cocking her head to one side. "You're not…how are you feeling about this?"

"I feel…elated," Dean says, shaking his head again. "I feel like – I mean, when I first met him, there was chemistry, you know? And he has just always been…perfect. And I've told him so. I feel like he's stopped himself coming to terms with it earlier because he was convinced I didn't want anything else, but at the same time now it's like he's perfect, you know? My real, really real, perfect match."

Charlie smiles. "You sound really happy, Dean," she says quietly. "Happiest I've ever heard you."

"Being with Cas makes me happy," Dean replies with a nod. "I mean, fuck, if I wasn't already head-over-heels for the guy… He's helped me so much, now I feel like I can help him back, you know? I can do for him what he's been doing for me all these years."

Charlie sits back with a sigh, pushing her glasses off her nose and up so that they push her fringe of bright red hair from her eyes. "You're still not pushing him, right? Letting him come to terms with stuff on his own?"

"Oh, yeah," Dean says. "And it's really been helping me with stuff, too. It's…it's great, Charlie. I feel like everything is finally coming together and I gotta say, it feels great."

* * *

When Dean comes home, the house smells like fresh bread, roasting meat, frying onions. Dean lets out a groan of appreciation, following his nose to the kitchen.

God, Cas looks good.

His hair is wild, sticking up in all directions. His hands are covered in grease; there are streaks on his clothes from where he's been wiping them. There's a smear of sauce around his mouth from taste-testing. His eyes are bright and the light from the kitchen window is streaming down onto his back and he's gorgeous.

"Hey, sweetheart," Dean greets softly, smiling when Castiel's head snaps up. He grins, coming over quickly to bury himself in Dean's arms, nosing gently at his mate's neck.

"Welcome home," he says, wrapping his arms tight around Dean and squeezing with what feels like all his might. Dean huffs, hugging back just as hard, and pulls back just so that he can pet Castiel's unruly hair from his face and see his face better. "Dinner's gonna be another hour at least."

Dean raises his eyebrows. Castiel's eyes are heavy-lidded, his voice low, body pressing up against Dean's in a way that is unmistakably seductive. "That so?" he asks, rubbing his hands through his mate's hair and scratching his nails against Castiel's nape. "However will we pass the time?"

"I can think of a few ways." Castiel's teeth shine, his fangs bared when he smiles. The normal pretty blue of his eyes has been overtaken with red. He rises up onto his toes so that he can growl into Dean's ear; "I missed you, Alpha."

Dean growls, pulling Castiel away from the hot oven and spinning him around, pressing him flat over the little kitchen island in the middle of the room. "I missed you too, sweetheart," he says roughly, running his hands over Castiel's thin t-shirt, pushing it up to reveal his gently curved spine, the small divots right above his ass that Dean can fit his thumbs in so perfectly. "But it was so nice, thinkin' about you at home, waiting for me to come and take care of you."

Castiel shivers, a low whine caught in his throat as he arches his back and pushes his ass back, so much more shameless than he used to be. Dean pushes against the flat of his back with one hand, keeping him still while the other unfastens his belt and pushes his jeans down to free his cock.

The slick between Dean's legs is thinner now, and doesn't generate nearly as quickly or easily, but it's enough. And Dean finds that it doesn't matter to him nearly as much when he thinks about it coming from Castiel, about how his body is just doing what his mate can't so that Castiel can give him everything.

He works one finger inside of Castiel's body, biting his lip at the low, wanton sounds Castiel is making into his forearm as Dean works him open.

"You think about me while I was away?" Dean asks, his voice sharp, words biting into Castiel's neck. He can see whenever they land, working down his mate's spine in little static shocks that make him whine so sweetly and jerk underneath Dean's hands. "Think about what I was gonna do to you when I got home?"

"Yes," Castiel moans softly, pushing his forehead against the countertop. Dean smiles, working another finger inside. Castiel is always so tight and fucking hot it takes Dean's breath away, trying to force his fingers inside and stretch his mate enough to take his cock.

"You want my cock, Cas? Want me to fuck your slutty hole and fill you up?"

Castiel lets out a wounded, high sound. "Yes," he hisses. "Yes, Dean!"

"You gotta relax then, sweetheart," Dean growls. "'Cause it sure as Hell doesn't feel like it."

"Dean, please," Castiel whispers, his shoulders shaking. "Please, fuck me. I'll let you, I promise – I, I can."

Dean tilts his head back, blowing out a huge breath. He reaches back to gather more slick on his fingers and works it over his cock, before pushing another thick glob onto Castiel's hole to ease the first way in. No matter how prettily Castiel begs, he'd never hurt his mate by going too fast.

He grabs Castiel's hips, thumbs fitting into those perfect divots again. "Fuck yourself back for me, baby," he orders softly. Castiel complies with a soft whine, arching his ass up and working back as best he can until he feels the slick, thick head of Dean's cock catching on his rim and sink inside.

"Fuck." They both let out the curse at the same time, Dean bending over tightly on Castiel's back, bowled over by how tight and hot his mate is on the inside.

"Dean, please," Castiel breathes. His body spasms around Dean's cock, greedy and clenching. Dean snarls, rocking deeper and then pulling back, testing the give of Castiel's ass around his cock and giving Castiel time to relax and take all of him.

Dean growls, one of his hands fisting in the hair at the back of Castiel's head and yanking him upright. Castiel whines, elbows locking, hands planted flat against the counter, sinking back onto Dean's cock as Dean starts up a brutal pace.

"Beg." Dean bites the word into the nape of Castiel's neck, licks the sweat from his skin and tastes the flavors of their promised meal on his mate's exposed neck. "Beg me to fuck you, Cas, to get you off, to come inside you -."

Castiel slams his hands down on the countertop, his shoulders quaking, words coming out a rough, low roar; "Dean, please. God, fuck, you have to – you have to fuck me, Alpha. Breed me up, please, need it, need to be knotted, filled up, please."

Oh, God. "Fuck, fuck -." Dean won't last long. He never does whenever Castiel starts up with the talk of breeding. It's something Dean has never liked, especially since it's usually directed towards him, but the idea of filling Castiel up, of him getting big and round with pups, of the idea that maybe Dean's come could own Castiel so thoroughly that he shows visible proof of Dean's claim on him – well, fuck, maybe it's his Alpha lizard brain but it gets him every damn time.

Castiel breathes in, ragged and heavy, and pushes back onto Dean's cock. He knows he has Dean, the smart little bitch. "Breed me, Alpha," he says, turning his head so that Dean can see his face, see the red eyes and the red cheeks and his bitten, pink mouth.

"Oh, you dirty little bitch," Dean gasps, resting his forehead against Castiel's back as he fucks in and starts to come. It's embarrassing, almost, how fast he came this time, but from Castiel's satisfied hum he's sure it's not going to be commented on. He reaches down, chuckles when he finds Castiel's erection is still trapped in his jeans. Dean hadn't even pushed enough clothes aside to free his mate's cock. Kind of a dick move.

He gives Castiel's erection a squeeze, earning a rough gasp. "You wanna save this for me later?" he asks. It's been a new thing they've been playing with – with Castiel coming to terms with his identity, his desire to top and to knot has become basically nothing, but there's still some parts of him that rear up every now and again, demanding an Omega and a bitch to knot and fuck.

Castiel shakes his head, thrusting forward into Dean's hand. "Please," he whispers softly, the sound no more than a whimper.

Dean grins, pulling back on Castiel's head until Castiel stands up straight, his throat bared for Dean to kiss down while his hand reaches into Castiel's jeans and starts to stroke. Like this, he knows he can make Castiel come in minutes, and there's something distinctly satisfying about having Castiel come like this, with quiet little whimpers and moans, caged in by Dean's arms.

* * *

"Dean, Castiel! Glad you could make it."

Dean grins, pulling Michael into a tight hug as the other Alpha greets him. They're welcomed eagerly into Michael's apartment, into a massive throng of people drinking and laughing and drowning out the light rock playing through the rooms.

"Congrats, man!" Dean says, pounding Michael once on the back before letting him go. "Even though you cost me ten bucks."

"Oh?" Michael raises an eyebrow. "How's that?"

"Dean thought you would wait until the end of the school year to propose," Castiel says with a smug smile. He has his arm around Dean's waist, Dean's arm settling across his shoulders. The red in his eyes pulses for a brief moment, taking in the balance of Omegas and Alphas and Betas in the room and gauging the noise level. "I felt that you wouldn't be able to wait."

"Where is the lucky bride-to-be?" Dean asks, searching the crowd for Adam.

Michael lifts his chin, scanning the crowd. "This way," he says, leading Dean and Castiel through the throng towards where Adam is sitting with a group of people, drinks in hand and talking animatedly. "Darling, are you still talking about work?" he asks, mock scolding.

"It's more interesting than your stock broker friends," Adam replies quickly, standing and kissing Michael deeply. The ring on his finger gleams against his hand – it's a modest ring, a thin band of silver, but it's beautiful.

When they pull away, Adam's bright eyes fix on Dean and Castiel, and he smiles at them widely. "Glad you could make it," he says sincerely.

Michael catches Castiel's eye, and the two of them extricate themselves from the main party with a promise to fetch more drinks, leaving Dean to fend for himself amidst both Adam's and Michael's colleagues. Dean had recently started a job working as a cybersecurity consultant that outsourced a lot of their financials to Michael's company, so he knew some people based on name, at least, and Adam was there to help fill in whatever gaps his memory couldn't.

"How have you been, Castiel?" Michael asks, pouring them both a glass of wine. "It's been a while since we've been able to catch up."

Six months, to be exact. And that's only since Castiel had felt comfortable enough to start coming out to his friends – or at least, those in Dean and Michael's group.

"The year's gone by fast," Castiel agrees with a nod, taking a sip of his wine. It's sweet and crisp on his tongue and he gives a hum of appreciation. "I'm…better."

It's true. There have been rocky days but being with Dean, like so many things are when it comes to Dean, have been easy. Since he'd come to terms with the fact that he might not be as full-blooded Alpha as he'd assumed, he'd expected things to be more difficult, instincts harder to fight, stigmas harder to bear and traditions harder to ignore.

Dean has a way of making everything feel weightless.

Michael smiles. "I'm glad," he says, sincerely. "Dean has been keeping me up to date, but I'm concerned for you as well as for how Dean is handling things. I want you to know that my offer to talk is still open." Castiel nods, smiling. "But you look…very good. You look happy."

Castiel turns, finding Dean in the crowd. Dean looks up at him and grins, his green eyes bright and ringed with red.

He takes another sip of wine. "I really am."


End file.
